


Once Upon A Dream

by UniqueImposter



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom/sub, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Puppy Play, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 79,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniqueImposter/pseuds/UniqueImposter
Summary: Riku thinks he'll only ever be Sora's best friend and nothing more, until Sora starts having dreams about him, and things change all at once. Riku realizes they we're always meant to be, but things are never that easy. Riku POV. Riku/Sora. Axel/Roxas. Smut. Fluff. Angst.
Relationships: Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 115
Kudos: 167





	1. The Dream

The Dream - 

It’s unfair how beautiful he is. 

And how I never seem to get tired of having him around, as he lays asleep in my bed there is no where I would rather be. Sora—the boy who by all accounts should have never been my friend, whether it was fate or a well-priced market, we have been neighbors since birth. Two boys stuck in such close proximity, no matter how different, we’re bound to spend all their time together.  
He’s possibly the only person I’ve ever loved. 

I don’t even mean purely romantically. I mean loved. Period. 

Which sucks because he doesn’t love me back. Not like that. Not like I want him to. 

It doesn’t help that Sora is touchy. He was never raised with the idea that being affectionate takes away from his masculinity. He has no problem hugging me as a greeting or snuggling next to me on the couch—even now as we lay together, he’s nestled into the crook of my arm, under my chin, where he fits. He’s kicked all the covers to the end of the bed. It’s just us, flush together with only our clothes and the night breeze to accompany us. 

I softly run my fingers through his hair, down his arms, over his hands, but I go no further. I want to, which is a problem. I could. Sora trusts me. I’ve pictured it many, many times—stealing a kiss from someone who would never know. 

And that’s the second problem, I would want him to know. I’d want him to kiss me back. 

There’s a third problem. The one that probably should have been first on this list. Sora has a girlfriend, a cheeky girl who cheerleads at his Blitzball games. Pretty, spunky, and someone Sora loved the moment she moved to the islands. It wasn’t easy to share him; it hasn’t gotten any easier. 

Kairi came to the islands when we were about ten, moving into the house next to Sora—him always sandwiched between us. Then she started tagging along, came to play on the island, was included in our adventures—ones where I was the villain, Sora the brave knight, and Kairi the princess waiting to be rescued. 

Did I know I was in love with him back then? 

I had no idea. 

The love I had for him had manifested my whole life and when I realized it, it blindsided me. Every time Sora would so much as look at Kairi my jealousy would flare up. Every time they would laugh together, every time they barely touched, every time I found them alone. 

I tried to make sure they we’re never alone. 

But nothing I did stopped them from becoming a couple in my junior year. 

We saw each other a lot less that year, what with the happy couple flaunting their in-love-ness and me not being able to stomach it. Don’t get me wrong. Kairi is one of my closest friends, and I kind of hate her. 

I deluded myself that year, given enough time Sora would have chosen me, right? Given enough time. I think even then I knew it wasn’t true, and I didn’t dare risk our friendship by telling him the truth. 

It’s my nightly routine to pretend in these late hours that Sora is mine and mine alone. That when the sun rises and when Sora rises with it, he will kiss me on his way out. 

The fantasies must be kept PG, sometimes forcefully, even if I could blame my state on morning wood. Sora would laugh and understand—I’d caught him with the same after all. 

In a way I hated him for being so beautiful. Hated his perfectly sun kissed skin, unruly hair, and soft heart shaped features. Hated the contrast between us with my long silver hair, pale skin, and angular face. Hated the universe for making my perfect match wholly unattainable. I must have been a real dick in a past life. 

I run a finger down his nose and then over his mouth. 

The ache is back, the want that festers just won’t heal. I miss something I’ve never had. I miss Sora who is, right now, in my arms. Four A.M. I have two more hours of make believe before Sora must go to school. 

I hold him closer to me. 

Sora suddenly arches his back and pushes his body closer to mine. I flinch away on instinct, thinking I’ve woken him, or that he’s having a violent nightmare. It’s then that I feel it. 

He is not having a nightmare. 

His breath is short and heavy and directly in my ear, every part of him is pushing into me as if he’s trying to crawl into my skin.  
I can’t move in fear that I will wake him. I’ve never seen him like this, so flushed. Lips delicately parted. Making these little gasps and moans that send heat directly to my core.  
It has got to be a sex dream, got to be, and a pretty intense one. It’s almost at its end, nearing its climax. His heart, his hands, his body, mimicking the actions of his dream, which is to hold onto me for dear life. To grind his pelvis into my hip.  


His face is one I try to commit to memory, shamefully so I can use it for my own purposes later, because I won’t ever see it again. I’ve always tried to imagine it, based on Sora’s moments of happiness. This wasn’t like that. Sora is wound tight, tied up in pleasure, in sweet agony.  
Then it happens.  


Sora cums.  


Right in my arms and as he arches his back he speaks. “Riku,” he whines, and it is the sexiest way I have ever heard my name.  


Then his eyes open, murky, blinking as if unsure of where he is, and he smiles up at me so slow and so sweet.  


I’m so hard I could nut on the spot.  


“I’ll go start you a shower.” I say, needing to do anything other than stay in bed so he can’t feel my bodies reaction. Sora’s face twists up in exaggerated fear.  


“Did I just…?”  


I don’t let him finish. I bolt to the bathroom. I start the shower and without anything else to do I will myself to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I keep hearing my name. Over and over. My name passing through Sora’s lips as he orgasms. Maybe I was asleep.  


I don’t wake up, so instead I adjust making sure nothing is visible in my shorts.  


“Hey.” I jump, turning to see him in the doorway. Still red, still mussed from sleep.  


“Rinse off. I’ll get you some clothes.”  


“Riku,” That’s the way I was used to him saying my name. “I’m really sorry…I didn’t mean to.”  


I put my hands up. My nervousness is making him feel guilty. “Its cool. You haven’t seen Kairi in a while, right? Hopefully tomorrow night you can release some of that…energy.”  


“Right.” He says, somewhat dejectedly.  


I squeeze one of his hands. “Its fine, Sora.”  


“Okay.”  


I leave before he strips to get into the shower. I return with spare boxers and a T-shirt and leave them on the counter. Sora has a drawer in my apartment for when he spontaneously stays the night and as comical and cute as it is to put him in my clothes, I didn’t have the will power to deal with that tonight.  


I have a spare mattress somewhere in the apartment. It doesn’t take long to find it.  


While I’m blowing it up Sora comes back into the room. “What is that noise?” and is stopped by me, on the floor, and the mattress I’m blowing up with the electric pump. “What are you doing?”  
Making sure that I don’t fall asleep next to you, so you won’t be able to feel my wet dream. “Making another bed.”  


“Yeah. Okay. Why?”  


“To give us more room to sleep.”  


Sora pouts and sits on the edge of the bed and watches me fit a sheet, he reaches out a foot and pokes me with his big toe. “Riku. Did I say something weird?”  


I look at his mouth and remember the way he said my name. “Between all the gasps and moans?” I tease him, trying to be normal and not completely freaked out.  


Sora blushes, appalled. “It wasn’t that bad.”  


“You were pretty loud.”  


“Oh my god. Please kill me.”  


I lay a spare blanket and steal a pillow from my side of the bed. “Turn off the light.”  


Sora frowns at me but does as he’s told and gets into bed. After a while of silence, he sits up. “This is stupid. We’ve always slept in the same bed!”  


I pretend to be asleep.  


“Riku don’t ignore me.”  


Silence. I even out my breathing.  


“You snore.”  


That really makes me laugh. I can’t help it. “Sora you have an hour before school. Go back to sleep.”  


“Fine.” He says and grabs his pillow before joining me on the air mattress.  


“What are you doing?”  


“Going to sleep.” He says stubbornly. “Like you told me to. Goodnight.”  


Sora wiggles making the air mattress jump, eventually he settles. I am very careful not to touch him. I don’t need any reason to remember hearing him say my name like that, to do or say something that I can’t take back. I have spent so much time and put in so much effort to make sure I am always perfectly cool, that my emotions are all in a line. Actions planned, methodical, cold.  


That I am in control, especially when Sora is close to me.  


“Riku,” he says again. Could he stop saying my name? “You’re acting really weird. Does it gross you out that bad?”  


“No of course not, dude. Its fine. Just weird. That’s all. You’ll get it all out of your system tomorrow.”  


“Yeah, right.” Sora’s quiet for a moment. “But Riku…”  


“Sora, please go to sleep. You have school soon and we stayed up really late.”  


"Okay, mom." 

I sigh and sit up; this isn’t working, we might as well go into the living room and put the T.V. on at least then I’d have something else to pay attention to.  


Sora grabs the back of my shirt. “I’m kidding. Lay down. You’re the one who never sleeps.”  


“That’s not true.”  


“Have you slept yet tonight?” I don’t answer. “That’s what I thought. If you need me to leave…I will.”  


“Leave?”  


“Yeah. Leave. So, you can sleep.”  


“Do you want to leave?”  


“Only if you’ll sleep better.”  


“I won’t.”  


“I’m confused.” He says cutely. “I’ll sleep here, you take the bed.” He pushes me. “I’m still in high school. You’ll sleep longer.”  


Sora hated that I was a year older than him and therefore in college without him. ‘I feel like I never see you’ Even though with me getting my own apartment we spend much more time alone. ‘You’re having all the freshmen experiences without me’ Which simply wasn’t true, but I was glad to be out of high school and I think in a small way Sora took that personally, as if I was be glad to be getting time away from him. He could feel me trying to distance myself from him.  


He pushes me again. “Go.”  


I’m really to worn out to argue with him and I do what he says to both of our surprise. Sora seems dejected when I choose to be in the bed alone, but I’m delirious. Why would he care? I must have also imagined him saying my name. That’s the only way that could have happened, that it didn’t happen at all. My fantasy creeping into real life. My wishful thinking. My hope finding new ways to make me lonelier.  


I lay down and pull the covers up around my body. I sleep alone enough that this shouldn’t be weird, being in bed without him, but it is.  


“You’re right. This is stupid.” I say, Sora springs up like a puppy.  


“Scoot,” he motions me over.  


He’s not in the crook of my arm but with him next to me I fall to asleep almost instantly.  


Not long after I hear the blare of the alarm and feel soft fabric being placed around me.  


Not long after that I turn back toward the clock. One P.M. If I don’t get up now, I’ll be late for class. My phone chimes. ‘Get up! Get up! Get up!’ from Sora.  


‘Okay, mom.’ I reply.  


He only sends me a vomiting emoji. What a stupid little thing to make me laugh. I really need to hurry up and fall in love with someone else.  


~.~  


Once Upon a Dream ~ Lana Del Ray


	2. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-upload. Posted the wrong draft sorry!

The Truth - 

I did not get enough sleep. I am bone tired from all the emotions that ran through me last night. Stealing away my energy for the day, but I get up and get dressed even though it is tempting to simply roll back over.

I eat a slice of cold pizza and head out the door. Golly, another hot day. Then I walk. My apartment is practically on campus, so it does not take long. Since it’s further from the beach, I got a larger space for about the same price as something within the confines of the school. However, I’m still eager to put down my backpack and portfolio when I get there. 

I’m majoring in Fine Art. It’s a dead end and stupid, at least that’s what my parents would tell you. They hate me for it, but I love it. It’s the only thing that I get lost in, feel out of my body and yet somehow like the truest version of myself. My parents would have disowned me if I hadn’t also taken a business minor. I actually enjoy the structure of business classes and am considering turning it into a double major, but I would never tell them that. 

Today is one of my long days with three two-hour classes back to back. Since its Sora and Kairi’s date night I made sure I was as busy as possible, distracted, otherwise my mind will picture it. All of it. If I’m not actively invested in something else. If I give myself any time at all to consider what it would be like to go on a date with Sora. He’s not the type, but Id love to wine and dine him, just once. 

Enough of that. 

I delve into my classes. 

Still life first, then abstract painting, followed by my final class art history. I’m headed to my last class, already having been assigned homework and hoping for no more. My still life professor wanted me to create an image of cherish. An emotion. We’ve all done incredible work with shape, but he is really pushing tone and style and seeing what we can convey with only a handful of objects or perhaps a setting. I’m also very diligently thinking about if I should pick up dinner. 

That’s when I see Kairi coming up the steps towards me. I wave, but when she sees me, she puts her head down and bushes past me. 

“Kairi?” No answer. “Kairi? Hey? What are you doing here?” No answer, I finally step in front of her. “What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She snaps at me. “It’s cruel, even for you.” 

I take a step back, wracking my most recent memories to figure out what I did wrong. We haven’t seen much of each other lately, but all three of us went out for dinner a couple months ago. Everything seemed fine then. 

“What did I do?” Most of the time I’m intentionally an asshole, but sometimes I am unintentionally an asshole. 

Kairi laughs, but in a way that makes it seem like she could cry at any moment. “I’m supposed to believe he hasn’t told you?” 

“Sora?” 

“He broke up with me?” Kairi begins to raise her voice. “Do you want me to say it? To what? Gloat? Well congratulations!” 

I blink. Stunned. “What?” 

Kairi quiets in a moment. “You don’t know?” 

“No.” I say. I hug her. Its what friends do. For a moment I think she isn’t going to hug me back, but she does. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I promise.” 

She cries for a moment into my chest. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.” 

“I can’t either.” I hold her for a few more moments and then say. “Not to be more of a dick, but I’m late for class.” 

Thankfully that makes her laugh and we say our goodbyes. I am completely distracted. I sit in class and do my best to take notes. My brain is running itself in circles even as I command myself to focus. Why wouldn’t he tell me? Why would he break up with Kairi and not tell me?

Sora and I had made a no secrets pact when he was eight and I was nine. I broke it well before he did, but I never imagined he would in the first place. Sora didn’t have secrets, nothing bad to keep hidden away from the worlds. Sora was all those corny sayings in one boy, an open book with his heart on his sleeve. I had thought he told me everything, but not this? Why not this? 

Had I done something wrong? 

Since when had Sora and Kairi had problems? Why was I just finding out about this? 

I leave class and am at my apartment in a blur of footsteps. When I open my door, Sora is on the couch. He looks over to me smiling. “I raided the fridge.” 

“Yeah okay,” I point to the game he’s playing. “I have homework.” 

“I can be quiet.” He turns the volume down, I still scoff. “I can!” 

I kick off my shoes and head towards my studio. “What happened to date night?” I ask as casually as I can manage, but the words are clumsy. Its not the question I want to ask. 

Sora hesitates. “She had a last-minute cheer thing.” 

“That’s weird. I saw her on campus.” 

Sora does seem surprised. “Are you sure?” 

“Pretty sure.” 

“She told me she had a cheer thing.” 

“Maybe you should ask her.” I don’t know when Sora became such a good liar. What else was there? What else could he be hiding from me? 

“Did you talk to her?”

“No.” I lie. “She was to far away.” I was never much good at facing the truth. 

Sora is relieved. I can tell. He doesn’t want me to know. He doesn’t plan on telling me. I’m nudging him and he’s still keeping this to himself. That feels rotten.

“I got to get to work.” I say robotically. “Order some food. Real food.” 

“What are you in the mood for?” 

I wasn’t. “Whatever’s fine.” Then I lock myself in. 

My studio is just the second bedroom, but it’s the perfect place to paint and that’s only really because I can shut the door and be here, alone, in the space I do nothing but art. Today my emotions have followed me in and not the kind I want to express, the kind that make me want to crawl into bed and never get up again. 

I have a deadline. This art isn’t just for me or I’d tell Sora I was going to take a nap instead. 

I move my hand over the canvas, sketching out basic shapes in charcoal—willing anything similar to the prompt to pop out. About thirty minutes in I realize what, or really who, my drawing is becoming. 

A heart shaped face, wild hair, and big happy eyes. Rough no real definition, but it’s still him. Cherish. In a flash I am consumed, and I slash through the drawing with a cutting black line. The charcoal is thick and dark, marring what would have been otherwise a good drawing. 

“Hey so, foods here. I got pizza again, and some hot wings too. Can you take a…break?” Sora’s eyes flit across the canvas then are all over me. “What’s wrong?” 

I let out a long breath. 

Sora comes and puts his arms around me from behind, nose in my hair. Normally this works, but its not normally Sora I’m mad at. 

I shake him off. “I need some air.” 

“Hey!” He says following me through the apartment. “Talk to me. What happened?” 

I try to clear my head. “I’m going for a walk. I can’t talk right now.” I mumble, putting on my shoes. 

“Not to me?” The way he says it is an exact refection of my own thoughts. Not to me. You couldn’t tell me? 

“I’ll be right back. I need a minute.” 

“Riku…” But I leave before he can say anything else. 

I am not right back. I walk and walk and walk. I end up several blocks away. About an hour later I pat down my pockets and can’t feel either my phone or wallet. My emotions condense into one. Stupidity. I can’t even call a car to come and pick me up. I turn around and start walking back, kicking myself for my temper tantrum. 

I wasn’t fifteen anymore. I couldn’t keep acting like this.

Sora might be processing the breakup for all I know; he might not be ready to talk about it. Two years was a long time. Sora and Kairi had talked about getting married. The big picture. The end of all other possible relationships. No one had even ever told them they were to young to even think about it, they’d always seemed like the couple that was meant to be day one. As far as I knew he never planned to break up with her. 

And that’s what she had said. He broke up with me. 

It was late. Had to be. Much later then Sora’s bedtime at this point. 

I worked on a convincing lie for my actions, what could I blame my behavior on? I’d blame it on my parents, of course, controlling assholes. Id pretend that their ongoing asshole-ness had gotten to me, about my art or anything else they didn’t like about me. Sora grew up next to me, his house a refuge from my house. He knew better then anyone. To this day I visit his parents more than my own, and it’s the same trip. 

Sora would understand, he wouldn’t question it. 

When I walk in Sora is dead asleep on the couch. I’m thankful he left the door unlocked. Its clear he meant to stay up but couldn’t make himself stay awake. 

I turn off the blaring T.V. and pick him up. Friends wake each other but Id rather carry him. I should wake him since he’s gotten so much bigger over the last year. I’ve got several inches on him and broader shoulders, but the boy is still heavy. When I lay him down, he wakes briefly. 

“I’m mad at you,” he says. “That was not a minute.” 

Considering its almost midnight. I have no way to argue. 

I laugh softly and brush his hair back with my fingers. “What can I do to make it up to you?” 

“All you can eat. After practice.” He slurs, very sleepily. 

Food. Always food with this boy. 

“Okay. Dinners on me. Just you not the team.” 

“Duh.” He agrees tiredly. I leave him to sleep. “Where are you going?” 

“I still have work to do.” And the only class I have tomorrow is still life, in which the very simple assignment is due. I may be an aloof asshole who thinks some old age norms should be put to rest, but I am actually very studious. School is important, and if I don’t go my parents won’t pay for it. 

Sora whines but rolls back over. 

I don’t finish until about three A.M. and this time I don’t end up painting Sora, but it is something related to him as all things in my life are. 

I don’t mean to, not consciously, but instead of going back to bed I lay down on the couch. I don’t want to wake him. I tell myself. Even though I know its not true, because he wouldn’t wake. He’s used to me coming to bed after him. The thing is, I can’t lay next to him, not tonight, giving up one of my most precious moments to avoid petty angry confused feelings that I can’t seem to put away. 

Eventually I must fall asleep because the sun is in my eyes and there’s a hand pushing my shoulder. “Riku. Riku!” 

I jolt awake. “What time is it?” 

“Nine.” 

“You’re late.” 

Sora rolls his eyes. “First period sucks anyway.” He hesitates. “Riku what was wrong?” 

“Parents.” 

“What happened?” 

“What always happens.” 

Sora sits next to me, very close. “You’re going to prove them wrong. Your art is so good. Oh! Can I see your homework thing?” 

“Sure, be careful though. Its charcoal.” And I had forgotten to set it. He runs to go get it. 

“Your bedroom…at night?” He says holding it out in front of him thoughtfully. “What was the prompt?” 

“Something you cherish.” 

Sora looks at it again, analyzing, trying to uncover a secret code. “Sleep?” 

I laugh, Sora makes a disgruntled sound and looks again. Searching. “It’s a moment. Possibly the only moment I feel free. I cherish that more then anything else.” 

“What moment is it?” 

When I have you. “When the world is quiet.” I say instead. 

Sora’s looking at me in a way I’ve never seen hm look at me before, in awe at the sight of me. Not the work in his hands, but me. Trying to cover a smile while witnessing something spectacular. “See,” He says. “Your art will be known across the worlds. All of them.” 

“If you say so,” I yawn, wondering if I should make a pot of coffee. It all depended on if Sora was actually going to stay home from school. 

“Beds free. Obviously. I should get going anyway.” He gingerly sets my work on the counter. “You’ll be at practice tonight, right? You owe me dinner.” 

“You remember that?” 

“Sure do. All you can eat.” 

“I’ll be there,” I grumble as I if wouldn’t have gone anyway. 

Sora laughs, I smile. Then he hugs me, out of nowhere. I hug him back despite being thrown off balance, he almost comes up to my nose these days. When he pulls back there is a tiny moment of pause right before we let go. A small moment where Sora looks at me in full force, eyes, nose, and then mouth before blushing and turning away. 

“Did you just consider kissing me?” I tease, to tired to regulate myself. 

He only gets redder. “Go to bed! You’re delirious.” 

I was tired, so I nod and playfully ruffle his hair. “Have fun at school.” 

“You too.” 

I wander into my room once he’s gone. I sleep. I wake up. I go to class. My piece gets moderate praise from the other student and my professor, who appreciates my deeper meaning, but gives me some constructive critiques. 

And as promised go to Sora’s Blitzball practice. I sit in the bleachers and as usual I draw random things. Passively watching Sora get sweaty. It was hard not to enjoy him kicking around a ball or running drills. 

Until Kairi comes over from her practice to sit next to me. “Has he told you yet?” 

“No. Not yet.” I keep drawing, my lines running deeper in the page. I had been trying not to think about it. 

“What’s he waiting for? He’s such a fucking idiot, I swear.” 

“Hey, I know you’re the pissed off ex-girlfriend now but that’s harsh.” 

“Fine, he’s a big dummy.” I eye her. “Turkey-head? Poo-face? Less harsh? None of them?” 

I laugh, getting her to smile back at me. “Who knew you were funny?” I tell her. 

I notice Sora’s watching us. He’s pretending to drink water. I wave and Kairi does too, her smile is as hard as plastic. 

“Never mind Sora. You’re stupid too.” 

“Me?” 

“How long have you been in love with him?” The words hit me in the chest, Id have rather she punched me. 

I glare at her. “What in the worlds are you talking about?” 

She visibly rolls her eyes. “Its obvious to everyone. Everyone but Sora. He’s a free man now. You should tell him how you feel.” 

I sigh. I’m not really surprised she knows. She knew me when I was fifteen after all. “You’re the stupid one Kairi. He’d hate me. Probably forever.” 

“You guys are so dysfunctional.” 

I laugh again. I’m a lot less mad at her now that she’s not Sora’s girlfriend. Spunky, loud, fireball of a girl. We probably would have been closer if Sora had not been so intent to fall in love with her. I could see her charm. 

“Why were you on campus yesterday?” I ask her. 

“Why do you keep coming back to high school to watch minors play Blitzball. Its kinda creepy.” 

“Kairi.” I prod her, begging her not to change the subject. To tell me. 

She huffs. “Fine. I’m weighing my options. I don’t know if I want to go to Hollow Bastion. That’s Sora’s top school. Not mine. I agreed to go to be close to him, but now that that’s done, I want figure out where I want to go.” 

“But its your home.” Its where she had come from. 

“The islands are my home.” She pauses. “Maybe I want to go somewhere I’ve never been. Maybe everywhere. Who knows? I went to ask an advisor about where else I can apply and if there are any programs I don’t know about.” 

That made perfect sense to me. 

“Okay, top pick. Where would you go?” 

“Neverland.” 

“What? With the pirates?” 

“And fairies! And flying!” She shoves me laughing. “Now you. Top pick.” 

“Twilight Town. The Fine Art program is unlike any other.” 

She smiles softly at me, something suddenly sad about her. “I really hoped it was Hollow Bastion. That’s only a couple worlds away. You guys would always have the weekends…” 

“Except for Sora’s Blitzball games and social life. My gallery shows and family obligations. We would haven’t time for each other.” 

“But it’s your life.” 

“I have no life without him.” 

“I thought that too until a couple weeks ago.” 

“A couple weeks. How long…” 

“Almost a month.” 

My mouth went dry. Sora had been keeping their breakup from me for almost a month. Kairi pats my knee. “Good luck with the whole unrequited love thing. Sora’s coming over and Id rather not.” 

“I get it. It was good talking to you.” I say waving her off, she’s gone before Sora’s at my side tugging at my sleeve like a small kid who wanted my attention. 

“What were you guys talking about?” He asks, obviously nervous. 

I shrug. “College stuff. She’s probably not going to go to Hollow Bastian.” 

“Oh.” Sora says, his eyes drifting to her and then back to me. “Anything else?” 

“Why? Is there something else?” 

Sora bites his lip. Just tell me. I want to scream at him. Just tell me. 

A sharp whistle blows, turning our attention to coach who screams out. “Hart! This is not social hour get back to the field!” Sora eyes me before returning to his drills, apologizing to his coach on the way. 

When its over the team waves us goodbye. My being with Sora not questioned or out of the ordinary. I hadn’t really thought about it until now, hadn’t really let it sink in. ‘Its obvious to everyone.’ Who was everyone? His team? His parents? My parents? Did the strangers on the street of our childhood home guess how long I was going to be able to stay quiet? Did they make bets? Or was Kairi generalizing because it was obvious to her? She knew me, shed known me when I was a kid. I wasn’t concerned that she’d figured me out. 

“Riku?” Sora says. I hm in response. We’re walking together towards downtown, but with no particular direction. “You’re super quiet. What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing really. Probably going to go on a run later. Sorry. I didn’t get enough sleep.” Which was true. Normally date nights are when I would catch up on sleep from all the not sleeping I did when Sora was with me. This was usually one of my more energetic days. 

Sora hits me playfully. “Well if you hadn’t stormed out like that.” 

“Yeah. Yeah.” I don’t need to be reminded. “Where do you want to eat?” 

“Pukka Pub!” He says exaggeratedly, I should have known it was his favorite restaurant. Pukka Pub is more diner then pub, but the alliteration must have been to good to pass up. It has all of Sora’s favorite foods, fried and in large quantities. 

They greet us by name as we enter. ‘Long time no see, eh?’ from a couple of the waiters. We hadn’t really been out since I’d started college, I was busier than I’d ever been. I couldn’t pinpoint the last time we’d gone out to dinner together, or anywhere that wasn’t my apartment. Not even swimming, which seemed silly since the beach was our backyard. 

As soon as we sit down Sora gimmie hands at me and, as is tradition, I hand over my sketchbook. After every practice he looks through it, and it’s probably why I’m more relaxed then some of the other students about people looking over my shoulder when I draw. Sora does it all the time. 

He flips through it carefully. “Didn’t feel much like drawing today?” 

“Not really.” I admit. Today was a lot of doodles. Some practice of hands or feet, wrinkles in shirts done all over the page. Not one cohesive thought. It was a good representation of my mind.  
“How’d it go in class?” He asks me animatedly. 

“Good. No new assignments for now. So that’s nice.” 

“Yeah. I hope you get some sleep.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Are you okay?” Sora asks suddenly. I look up from where I was dissociating, staring unfixedly at the menu. He’s worried. I’m worrying him. 

I reach out and squeeze one of his hands, then its like I get tired and I leave my hand there, with his. He’s not touched his menu; he always knows what he wants. Today. Sora leaves his hand in mine. Its nice.

“You look like you’re going to fall asleep in the booth.” 

I laugh. “I know I’m sorry. I’m not very good company.”

“You are always good company.” I laugh again. About to tell him we also had a no lies pact when he continues “But you do seem distracted. Did…Kairi say anything to you?” 

I sigh loudly. “Why?” I ask again. “Is there something going on?” I finally set aside my menu. 

Sora doesn’t answer right away, mindlessly I begin to rub my thumb over the back of his hand. He suddenly pulls his hand away. My brow furrows. He normally doesn’t pull away, not like that anyway, normally he doesn’t think about it. Moving his hands to tell a story or to fidget. Normally we wouldn’t have even held hands. 

“What’s wrong, Sora?” 

His eyes go big, wide and watery. “Don’t be mad okay?” I nod about time. “I broke up with Kairi.” I nod again. He playfully reaches over the table to hit me at my non-reaction. “Why didn’t you tell me she told you?” 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

That shuts him up. “Did you find out yesterday? That’s why you were so mad? That’s why the drawing with the….” He makes a slashing motion over his own face to end the sentence. “You were that mad at me?”

“You’ve never not told me something before. I kept wondering what I had done wrong.” 

“No!” He exclaims, “I didn’t know how to tell you. Especially since you were so into Kairi when we were younger, and I know you weren’t happy when we started dating. So, I didn’t want you to think I’d like, I don’t know, stolen her for nothing. And—” 

“What? Wait. Hold on. I don’t and didn’t, ever, have a thing for Kairi.” 

“You can’t lie to me. You were so jealous all the time.” So, he had noticed, but hadn’t understood the real reason. 

I laugh, unbelievable. “I was. I’m not lying. I was jealous, I was losing my best friend. It’d had always just been the two of us.” 

“Oh.” 

“Really, you are dense. You should have just told me.” 

“Don’t be mean.” 

I shrug. I was always a little mean. “Well, why’d you break up?” 

“I don’t want to tell you. Its embarrassing.” 

I can’t help but roll my eyes, after that whole speech and he still doesn’t want to tell me. “Sora, do you remember when you got the explosive shits from that hole in the wall restaurant in Traverse Town? You were in the bathroom for 24 hours. I was with you the whole time and—” 

“Yes!” He’s so flushed. “I know. I kind of hate you right now.” 

“Don’t be mean.” I mimic him. He sticks his tongue out at me. “My point is, I’m with you through anything. Don’t be embarrassed.” 

“That’s different.” 

“Fine don’t tell me.” Our server is just in time to take our order. Sora rattles off his five-course meal and I order a plain burger. After she’s done, he puts his head in his hands and sits there. I move to the other side of the booth as he’s done to me when he thinks I’m being to moody. 

“Boxing me in?” He arches an eyebrow at me. 

“This side looked comfier for my nap.” He laughs which I am grateful for. “Its okay you really don’t have to tell me.” He looks up at me from his hands. “I’ll just guess. Okay first guess. Did you cheat on her?” 

“What? No!” 

“Did she cheat on you?” He angrily shakes his head. “Hm. Big blow out fight? She tried to eat your leftovers; I know how you are about food. Tried something to kinky in the bedroom?” I was pushing him, if I was anyone else, he wouldn’t let me get away with it, but I was me. That was the beautiful thing about being someone’s best friend. 

Sora’s eyes narrow. “Stop.” He whispers. “I’ll tell you; you bully.” He shakes his head at my pleased expression and then takes a deep breath. “We never had sex.” 

He says it so fast and low I almost ask him to repeat himself when my brain registers the truth. “You broke up with her because she didn’t want to have sex with you?” Weirdly. I’m confused. Who wouldn’t want to have sex with Sora? He was gorgeous, with a great body. To be able to touch him naked, to be the only one to touch him naked. Who wouldn’t want that?

“Shut up. And stop guessing. No. We tried. A lot because we both wanted to but I…could never…uhm.” He makes an upward gesture with his hand. 

“Get hard?” I say, as the first of many plates is set in front of me. I turn to the slightly embarrassed waiter. “Thank you!” I call out after them. 

“Can we talk about this at home?” I always get a little kick from hearing him call my apartment home. 

“This is your punishment for not telling me sooner.” 

He huffs. “Fine. Then no I couldn’t get hard, asshole.” 

I furrow my brow. “The other night you had no problem.” 

Sora chokes briefly on the bite he had taken and once recovered puts his head back in his hands. “That was part of it. I started having these crazy dreams, then I started saying that persons name. Even when I was staying the night with Kairi. She asked me, point blank, if I was in love with them. The answer wasn’t immediately no. Which I mean, it surprised me too. I didn’t think it was fair for either of us to stay together.” 

I can’t hear anything beyond. ‘Say this person’s name’ and ‘might be in love with.’ I can’t breathe. 

Sora pokes me. “Aren’t you going to ask who it is?”

I smile. “I’m trying to think of a good guess.” 

He laughs, finally. “Well guess away because I’m not going to tell you. I will! But I don’t even know how I feel yet.”

I nod. “That’s fair.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “I’ll just have to wait for you to say their name anyway.” I laugh as his eyes practically bulge out of his head. 

“That is not fair!” 

I continue to tease him through the rest of the meal. 

The only problem is that the other night Sora said my name, and that means he might be in love with me. 

~.~

I love you – Billie Eilish


	3. The Kiss

The Kiss -

What is this feeling? I can’t place it. I can’t categorize it into any emotion I’ve felt before. It doesn’t fit with any others. Happiness? Not even close, its ten notches above that. I feel jittery, outside of myself, hopped up on something I hope is good. A bursting, clanging, LOUD feeling. Not only inside but all around. A true feeling. 

I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to act. I keep a base line and try not to steer from it. Trying my best to be okay with everything. An okay line, so I always know how to act and react. What to do. What to say next. 

But this. This! Its beyond the base line. I’d say it’s broken the thing damn in half. 

Sora does not share this emotion. This high with me. Even his nervousness cannot dissipate what I’m experiencing. Sora is unsure of himself which is also new. I can almost see his mind running itself in circles, making plan after plan after plan and always, eventually, finding a flaw and stating over. Its strange to see him think so hard about this. About me. 

What a weird thing to be true. 

I’d have him anyway he wanted me, the trouble was, I never thought he’d want me. 

Now he might. Giddy. Jubilant. Terrified. What if I fucked it up? What if I didn’t?

It’s almost already six when we get home. Heavy with all his extra weight Sora collapses on the couch, pulling out his own homework. 

I can’t sit down. I can barely stand still. Sora’s stopped what he’s doing look at me, his face pinched. He knows me very well; he knows something is up. Off. Odd. He’s trying to see through me. This time, I can’t let him. I meet those big blue eyes with a wry smile and watch him soften and return to what he was doing. 

“Hey, I’m going to go for that run.” I say, already headed to the bedroom. 

“Okay,” he hesitates, considering joining me and then must decide against it. “After can we do some yoga?” 

This is our routine. School, workouts, homework, yoga, hang out. An everyday that marked our years together. I answer with a simple yeah, even though I probably didn’t need to answer at all. Sora probably didn’t even need to ask. 

Haphazardly I change out of jeans and put on loose-fitting shorts. When I return Sora’s gaze is also filled with something new. As if noticing me for the first time. Noticing the muscles on my legs and arms. How my face looks when I pull my hair back. I watch him watch me. I let him. Until he blinks and returns to what ever bit of homework he’s been assigned. 

I don’t say goodbye, or see you later, or anything of that nature, because there’s no need. I wonder if I should, just to say anything. To keep other words in place of, ‘I know its my name you say after your wet dreams. You call my name.’ 

I run without music, my feet pounding into the pavement, sidewalk, and in some places sand. The islands are always beautiful in a way that I’m attuned to. To the ocean, to the waves, to the call of seagulls and never changing water. I know its beautiful, but after looking at it for so long it just is. 

Had I done that with Sora? 

Faster. I tell myself to distract. Faster. Don’t stop. You can’t stop. I don’t know what will happen when I do. That emotion, the new one, coils waiting to spring, waiting to attack me, waiting to give me away. 

Sora thinks he’s in love with me, and what can I do to make sure that he is? Sora might be in love with me. I must make sure that he is. But how? How did I make sure? I haven’t allowed myself this feeling since I was fifteen and was completely controlled by it. Want. I amputated it so I could lay in bed next to him. Want. Palpable, physical. I wanted him again. The old and new form of want. 

When I get home, Sora’s changed and set out two mats for us. I watch him watch me again. I watch him notice. Notice me taking off my shoes. Notice the sweat on my brow. Notice the way my shirt clings to my skin. I watch him fill with want and then frustration. I enjoy all of it, even his anger. I enjoy the frustration in him, because it matches mine. 

I’ve forgotten what its like to look at him with want, with true unstifled desire. I already know I didn’t run long enough, or hard enough to dispel any of this feeling. This won’t-shut-up, won’t-be-quiet emotion. How could I have forgotten how much I love him? I feel fifteen again, submerged in the idea of being in love with him and not knowing how to act around him. So instead I do what I’ve always done and watch him, but Sora’s so actively trying not to watch me he doesn’t notice. 

I join him on the mat. He greets me with a small hey. So small. I great him with another cool smile. He swallows. The hard lump in his throat bobbing delicately. 

Sora turns on the program without another word, but he’s distracted. What is he thinking? The yoga session he’s chosen is focused on stretching and destressing. Sora has always been flexible while I still struggle to touch my heals to the mat. However, today he’s a little imbalanced. Wobbling. Sora can normally maneuver so fluidly between poses. A gentle uncalculated ease to him when in motion. But not today. 

“When did you hurt your shoulder?” I ask when we’re finished. He makes a familiar face at me. Exasperated, caught off guard. 

“Tidus kicked me in practice. It was my fault; I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Let me see.” I inch closer to him. 

He holds a hand out, as if that would stop me. “Its fine.” 

“Take your shirt off or I’ll take it off for you.” I meant it to be flirty, teasing, but the monster in my tone comes out. I see him without a shirt every day, in only a swimsuit, in nothing at all. Today is different, on edge, ready to be tipped one way or the other. 

His blush spreads down to his neck, he swallows, before he steadily pulls his shirt up over his head. Then he turns around, which is a shame, I want to see expression when I touch him. 

“Ouch,” I say, not jokingly. The bruise has already blossomed with bright yellows and greens and purples, dotted all along his left shoulder. I begin to poke around, pressing my palm into his shoulder gently. Reaching around to feel his collar bone, brushing along bare skin his breath hitches every so often at my touch. Once I relocated one of his shoulders after he refused to get it looked at, so worried that he wouldn’t be able to play. Its why I won’t let it go. I thoroughly check. Sometimes he winces. Sometimes he shivers. Sometimes he clenches his fists. 

“Not broken,” I finally decide, but if it was fractured, I would have no idea. I brush my fingers delicately over his bruise, nothing for it but to let it heal. I trace around each swirl marring his otherwise perfect skin. 

Sora just sits there, clenched fists, controlled breathing and lets me. 

“It does look like a shoe print.” I say. 

“Tidus and his big ass feet.” 

I laugh and Sora does too. “Did you tell coach?”

“Absolutely not.” His tone is indignant. “He’ll probably pull me from the game this weekend. I have to play every game.”

“You’re pushing yourself to hard.” 

“I’ll be fine.” He turns to smile at me, but I frown in return. Its his dream to go pro. 

“What happens if you get really hurt?” 

Sora turns fully around shaking his head, we’d both seen injuries there was no coming back from, and this was only high school Blitzball. “I can’t think about that.” Boldly I brush back a piece of his hair, just to watch him blush. 

“Fine. I’m going to shower.” 

When I come back into the living room Sora’s waiting for me, bobbing throat when he sees me. His eyes roam downward over my T-shirt and boxers. Its what I normally wear. I watch him fidget. “Can we watch a movie?” he asks. 

I check the time. “You should go to bed.” 

He sticks out a lip. I am so tempted to bite it. “So should you, but you aren’t going to.” 

“I’m not going to get up at 6 A.M. either.” But there is no real argument. 

When I sit with him, he nudges me with a toe. Any contact is dangerous yet intoxicating. We touch all the time but now its more then touch. I want try. I want taste. I want take.

I breathe out steadily, grounding myself.

“What movie do you want to watch?” he asks me playfully. 

“What are you okay sleeping through?” 

He makes a face at me. “I’ll stay awake.” 

I make a noncommittal noise, and rent something animated, something we’ve seen before. “Sora,” he hums at me through the opening of the movie. “Your game is an away game, right?” 

“Yeah. Twilight Town. You can come right?” He says with a suddenly worried inflection. I squeeze one of his hands, not sure when he needed so much reassurance that I was going to show up to things I have never missed before. Sora squeezes back, and then we just don’t let go. 

“We should stay the whole weekend. We haven’t been in a while.” 

“Okay. That’d be cool. As long as you don’t get the most expensive hotel.” There’s a stubborn gut to his chin as he says this. So many exposed bits of him I could put my mouth on. Sink my teeth into. Claim. Have. Take. 

I nod. “Alright. Not the most expensive hotel.” 

About twenty minutes into the movie Sora is asleep, he’s melted into my side. His fight to stay awake lost and is cutely snoring on my chest. I kiss the top of his head, stealing myself from going any further.

Eventually, I take him to bed. I carefully lay down next to him, watching him inhale and exhale with so much peace I am overwhelmed by it. It takes great restraint not to touch him, not to feign normality and pull him close to me. Until Sora makes the choice for me, first hands extended until they reach my chest followed by the rest of him. He sighs contently, throwing an arm over me, and then a leg. 

This too is normal, but now everything seems to have double meaning. 

I breathe him in, wishing he was this honest when he was awake. The weekend could be the perfect opportunity to show him just how good of a boyfriend I could be. To be worthy of being in love with. To make his dreams a reality, would be my dream come true. 

~.~

Friday comes before I can set aside time to fully prepare for the weekend. We’re busy people, all my extra attention is for Sora, but all my classes were picking up since it’s nearing the middle of the semester. I found myself locking myself in my studio or living at my desk, studying for various tests, blocking out the boy I am too easily distracted by. Sora gets busy too, with long practices to ready the team for the upcoming game, his classes are picking up too with more assignments and the threat of tests. Sometimes its all we can do to keep our eyes open and watch a movie together. 

If the world would stop at the mention of him loving me that would be amazing, but it hadn’t seemed to hear, for there was no pause or break, reminding me that this was real life. 

We’re packing for the weekend ahead, before Sora heads for the school. Sora always rides a gummi ship with his teammates, and the cheer squad where Kairi would be. He was co-captain with Tidus and had to be there, but I still wanted him with me. I was leaving pretty soon, heading to Twilight Town early to check into the hotel and get close seats for the game. 

Roxas and Axel had made plans to meet me. Axel would most likely smuggle in some booze since Sora’s parents weren’t able to come. 

“How’s your shoulder?” I ask him absently, refolding what Sora threw at his duffle bag, throwing back items that were to summery. 

He shrugs his shoulders up and down as if to prove to me that he’s fine. “All good.” 

I nod. “Good. Don’t get hurt again tonight.” 

“Darn,” he snaps, digging in the bottom of his drawer for pants after I told him he couldn’t bring shorts. “You foiled my plan.” He says sarcastically, before tossing a pair of jeans at me. 

“You know what I mean. Its not fun watching you get beat up out there.” Once a Blitzball was spiked a little to hard and Sora happened to get his face right in its path. Broke his nose, but the other team hadn’t scored so Sora had deemed it worth it. I wanted to get ahold of that other player and beat him to a pulp. Sora wouldn’t even let me baby him, he still went to practice everyday that week. Serious Athletes show up I’d learned, no matter what. 

We used to work out together, me always pitting myself against him, constantly trying to prove myself. Until I found the art club and spent all my time painting sets for the drama department. Or working on murals around town. 

Lightly Sora puts a hand on my arm. “I won’t get hurt, and if I do I have you to fix me up.” 

“One day we won’t be practically living together.” I say after a moment of calculation. “I should teach you how to take care of yourself.” Sora’s brows draw together ever so slightly, as if pinched, but nothing more. Id hoped for a stronger reaction. 

“Yeah but by then I’ll be famous. I’ll have a team of people to take care of me.” 

I snort at the boldness of it. “Oh yeah. How could I forget? Don’t forget us little people when you make it.” 

He just laughs. “When are you heading down?” 

“My ship leaves in about thirty minutes.” 

“So early,” he almost whines. 

“Yeah, Roxas and Axel want to hang out a bit.” 

“Without me?” This time he does whine, his tone incredulous. 

“Only for a little while. I’ve already promised them we’re all going to dinner together.” Sora sighs, so I say. “I know you miss him.” 

He makes this sad face. “Of course I do. I’m happy for him and all, and we talk all the time, but its different now. I thought wed at least have high school, maybe college, to be together but…yeah, I miss him.” 

Roxas moved to Twilight Town in the summer. He elected to graduate a year early and take a gap year to focus on his Struggle career. Shortly after he moved, he’d met Axel, a man six years his senior, but it was meant to be. One of those things. Now they lived together after only a couple months of dating, and Sora no longer has any hope of him coming home. 

It’d be hard enough if they were just brothers, but they’re twins. It was difficult for Sora when they didn’t leave the nest together. I know he felt robbed of their last year in the same house, felt like he’d fallen behind. 

I saw his longing so clearly; they were more connected then even we were. As much as I wanted him all to myself this weekend, I know I have to share him. There went all my plans to tell him how I felt. 

“Axel and I can fuck off for awhile tomorrow you know. I could invite him into the hotel for a night even.” I say teasingly. 

Something about that seriously furrows his brow. “You can’t sleep with Axel.” 

“He’d be lucky to have me.” 

That crease doesn’t smooth out, not even with my light hearted tone. “Roxas would kill you.” 

That really makes me laugh. Roxas never used to care much in terms of relationships until he met Axel. Now he mean mugs anyone who gets even remotely flirty, and Axels nature is so open and able to make friends he easily makes Roxas jealous. Roxas would indeed kill me. 

“Still. If you need time. I’m sure we could find something to do.” 

Sora hesitates and then sighs. “Maybe. It’d be nice to talk to him, like actually talk.” 

“Consider it done.” 

“Thanks.” He says a bit sheepishly. 

I pull out his red coat from the closet and start folding it neatly. “You think Axel would let me draw him? His features are fascinating, and I’ve never drawn anyone so tall.” Axel was well over six feet with sharp cutting features he did nothing to hide but instead enhanced. He dyed his hair bright red to bring out the emerald in his eyes. And those two small triangle tattoos on his cheeks. Capturing him properly would be a test of my skill. 

This time Sora’s face flushes with actual jealousy. “Maybe,” he says, frustrated. “Actually, I’m sure he would love that.” 

“Think he’d pose nude?” I poke him. 

It had the desired effect; his mouth hardens into a tight line. “Why?” 

“Clothes can date a piece. Either sculpture or physical work. Clothes can almost…distance the viewer from the person underneath them. Date them. Decide things about them. Besides, we haven’t had nude models in class yet and it’d be good practice.” I shrug. 

“I could pose for you, sometime.” 

If only he knew the amount of drawings he was the subject of. “Sora, you’re my favorite person in all the worlds, but you fidget way too much for that.” 

He makes a face at me. “I’m sure he’d pose naked, Roxas says that’s his main mode anyway.” 

“I’m sure Roxas is also naked.” 

“Ew.” 

Before I can tease him my phone rings. “My cars here. Want me to call you one?” 

“No. I’m good. I’ll walk.” 

I zip up both weekend bags and double check I didn’t mix up his sports bag and regular bag before throwing them both over my shoulder. 

“Don’t have to much fun without me.” He says, with a touch of real sadness. 

“Kick some ass.” I say in return. 

“You know I will.” 

~.~

Roxas, Axel and I are some of the first ones to arrive at the Twilight Town High stadium. We get through security, grab a few concessions and take our seats at the front of the bleachers. The only real difference between this stadium and the one back home it that its indoors, while our stadium is out in the open. Though, Twilight Town has to account for things like snow while we hardly even get rain. The free-floating arena is basically the same. 

Blitzball is a sport played underwater. Basic rules of two teams, two goals, and a ball. The game had four quarters are two halves. With many other intricate rules I never bothered to learn, but Sora could rattle off in an instant. I knew when to cheer and chant with the rest of the crowd, that was my role. 

As soon as we sat down Axel pulled out several small bottles of liquor even though we’d been thoroughly checked at the door. He took one of the mini bottles and shook it at me. “Pick your poison.” 

I looked down at my dark soda. “Rum.” I say handing in over to him. Which he immediately begins doctoring. Roxas hands over his soda too, but without saying anything. 

“How’s Sora been?” Roxas asks, we hadn’t had a real chance to talk, checking into the hotel had taken longer then I thought. “And you too, I guess.” 

“Thanks, Rox.” I fake hurt. 

He pushes me softly. “You know what I mean.” 

“He’s good. A little too busy, I think, with school and practice but he’s been really good. I just wish he’d take a break.” 

Roxas snorts a little, exactly like Sora would have. They are basically carbon copies of one another, except Roxas is blonde with darker blue eyes. His skin has lost a little of its tan since leaving the islands. Though being so similar, he’s always felt like family, and only like family. 

“This coming from you?” He chides. “Aren’t you taking like sixty hours this semester? How many clubs are you in? Do you still organize and participate in your family’s crazy benefits? When do you take breaks, Riku?” He says all this off handedly, but I can tell he’s asking me honestly. A twinge of worry underneath his sarcasm. 

“I thought you cared more about how Sora’s doing. Sora should take a break.” 

“No mercy for yourself, huh?” 

“It’ll get better once we’re in Hollow Bastian.” No parents to deal with, just the occasional appearance. I wouldn’t give them anything more.

“Okay, but that’s next year, what about next semester?” He prods me. 

“We’re going at the beginning of summer.” Roxas furrows his brow just slightly, as if this is news to him. “The Blitzball team wants to start training Sora right away.” 

“Still…you have like eight months between now and then.” 

“If I start now, I can finish both my majors and maybe a minor in five years and graduate with Sora.” Roxas rolls his eyes at me. 

“He’d hate to know that the reason your killing yourself is because of him.” 

Axel hands me back my drink and I take a long drink instead of answering. Axel is currently a bartender somewhere downtown. I can barley taste the alcohol. I toast him. “Thanks.” 

He twirls his hand in a small mockery of a bow. 

Suddenly Sora plops down next to me, smiling. “Boo!” He exclaims realizing he startled me. He throws his arms around Roxas, they hug like they haven’t seen each other for years and years. 

“I miss you,” I hear Roxas whisper softly. 

“I wish mom and dad could’ve come too.” Sora whispers back. 

“Yeah well. They’ve been down to see me more then you.” 

I turn to Axel while they talk, immediately falling into their old ways. Their routine of jabbing at each other. I’m an only child but I know this is just how they are, I grew up with them after all. Axel is watching them with fondness, especially Roxas. 

A small strange stab of jealousy pricks me. He is so open with his affection. My glances at Sora with any truth to them feel stolen, shameful, and everything else I keep closely guarded. To be so open, to not have to worry about an explanation or being caught. I wonder briefly what that would be like to allow myself to look at Sora like that. 

“Hey,” I say, breaking him out of it. “I was wondering if I could draw you tomorrow. Or if we could do something just the two of us?” 

“Riku are you hitting on my boyfriend?” Roxas jabs at me. Boyfriend. Another prick. 

I throw an arm around Axel, he snakes one around my waist, already in on the joke.

“We’d make a cute couple don’t you think, babe?” Axel smirks at his partner. 

“Very cute, I think.” I answer.

“He was talking to me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Hands off, Riku.” Roxas says, half joking, half serious. 

I laugh and return my hands to my sides. “I’m only asking to give the twins some time to themselves.” 

“You want me to pose naked?” Axels short red eyebrows flick upward. 

“Actually yeah, if you don’t mind.” 

“What if I mind, Riku?” Roxas again breaking his conversation with Sora to interject in ours, they’d already started making plans. 

“Didn’t ask you, did I?” 

Roxas sticks his tongue out at me, and I return it childishly. 

Axel reaches a hand out for him, Roxas takes it automatically. “Do you really mind, babe?” Asking seriously. Babe, twice now, two pricks. 

“No, I’m just giving Riku shit. I’m more his type anyway.” He says teasingly. 

Before I can retort Sora interjects. “What?” Roxas just rolls his eyes at Axel, sharing a secret look with him. Prick. Prick. Prick. So many little holes in my heart. 

“Sora!” A distant call from Tidus. 

“Coming!” Sora replies, booming. “I have to go.” 

We all wish him a chorus of good lucks. I pass him his coat and a pair of long sweats I packed. He thanks me honestly, relief in his face. I know he must be freezing already, what with it being the middle of autumn in Twilight Town. I squeeze one of his hands in reply and he squeezes back before disappearing with Tidus. 

“Are you guys a couple now?” Axel asks me, after a moment of observation. 

I start to shake my head, but Roxas answers for me. “No. They’ve always been like that.” 

“To bad,” Axel says, and he winks at me. I take another long drink, remembering Kairi’s last conversation. ‘obvious to everyone’ Everyone. Even Axel who I honestly barley know. Roxas, but how could he not know, I’d known him since he was born. 

That’s what this weekend is for, I remind myself before I can over think it. To be boyfriend material, even if I was spending most of it with Axel. 

I’m buzzed when the game starts. Every time I order a new drink Axel pulls out several more baby bottles and mixes my drinks. I should tell him no. I should slow down, but I don’t. I haven’t felt loose in a while, unwound, not tied to thoughts of my course load or the disapproval of my parents. To sit and cheer on my best friend in the sport he loves and nothing else. So, I drink. I can’t see the harm. 

By half time. I’m pleasantly drunk. Axels stopped making me drinks or more likely ran out of those small bottles. 

At the top of the arena a small stage opens and both cheer squads to dazzling routines, to break up the game. When they are over, I see Kairi running over to me. She starts saying something, but I can’t hear her. I lean down over the railing that separates us and yell. “What?” 

She smiles and whispers. “You’re welcome.” Before putting her hand at the back of my next and pressing her face into mine. Yuck, is all I can think before my alcohol addled mind clicks. She’s kissing me. Cold unmoving lips up against mine. I pull back in disgust. 

I flip her off as she walks away, she blows me a kiss in return. 

“What the fuck?” Roxas exclaims, relying what my mind is screaming. Exactly. What the fuck. 

However, I can’t be concerned with explaining or trying to. I search the pulpit of islanders for Sora’s face, hoping to all hope he didn’t see. No such luck. His face is full of fury, of disgust, of anger beyond anger. I can’t convey how sorry I am with just a look, especially since he won’t look at me. 

The last half of the game Sora plays a little too hard, recklessly. Roxas keeps asking me questions I can’t answer with more then a yes or a no or an I don’t know. 

The only thing I do know is that I’m going to kill Kairi. 

~.~

Lonely – Noah Cyrus


	4. The Confession

The Confession – 

The Islanders won their game, not surprisingly, and now the four of us are out at Axel’s bar celebrating. Sora still wont look at me. I’m perfectly, infuriatingly sober. Although, now Sora is drinking enough for the two of us. Hell, for the whole table. He is plastered sitting next to me, and very pointedly ignoring me. 

He won’t let me explain. He won’t let me bring it up. 

They shouldn’t have even been bringing him drinks, but since were in Axels bar he gave the okay, vouching for a friend who would be cool. Sora took the chance to be publicly drunk before he was even eighteen. 

After some outrageously bad karaoke from both Axel and the twins the night begins winding down. 

Axel smirks at me mischievously. “That was some kiss, huh?” he continues to smile even as Sora and I both death glare at him. No shame, this man. 

“She just came over. I thought she wanted to tell me something.” Stupid, stupid Kairi. Meddling in her ex boyfriends love life. I don’t know how she expected her stunt to play out but probably not with Sora gritting his teeth and mixing spare food around his plate. 

“She did seem to latch onto you like a sucker fish.” Axel exaggeratedly makes an O shape with his mouth while replicating a suction noise. 

“If you hadn’t kept mixing me drinks—” 

“Hey man,” he cuts me off. “You were drinking them.” 

I can only roll my eyes, frustrated. He’s right and I hate it. I have no one to blame but myself. I shouldn’t have leaned over the railing. I should have pulled back sooner. I should have known somehow. I can’t imagine she was really trying to help, but instead to hurt. How mad did she have to be to do this to me? Sora started have wet dreams about me and it ruined their relationship. Had she been trying to ruin my chance? Make Sora buy more into the idea that I have a ‘thing’ for her. She’d said you’re welcome, but for what? 

“I think we should probably get home.” Roxas says, for once not adding into Axel and I’s banter. 

“I have to pee.” I say, breaking away from the table, but really, I go to the front to pay the bill. I’m standing at the counter waiting for my payment to be processed when I notice Sora’s followed me.

I sigh, expecting the worst. “Do you want to stay with Roxas?” 

Sora furrows his brow. He’s drunk so I give him time to gather his thoughts. “I’m coming with you.” He says, almost angrily. I’m relieved, then he’s not that mad at me. Hurt probably, confused. I wonder if he thinks I’m seeing her behind his back. 

“Are you going to fall over?” I ask him. 

“I’m fine.” He snaps, with a little wobble. “Aren’t we going to pee?” 

Oh, he only followed me to use the bathroom. I thought he’d wanted to tell me something. The waitress hands me back my card and I thank her. 

Sora gasps at me. Realizing what I’ve done. “Riku!” he grabs my arm, less playfully then he probably thinks. “You didn’t have to do that!” 

“What am I good for if not for this?” I say, half joking. 

We may have been neighbors, and Sora’s parents are very well off, but my parents are filthy rich. The old money rich. The scummy kind of rich. Where they invest and make deals to make themselves to make them more rich. My allowance is batshit crazy for someone my age. What am I good for if not picking up the tab? 

“I hate that,” he mumbles. 

“Come on.” I say, slinging an arm around him. “I thought you had to pee.” 

When we return to the table I say. “We’re all set, we can leave whenever.” 

“Okay mister money bags.” Roxas teases me, with a not so slight annoyed edge to his words. “We were all going to split the bill.” 

“I wanted to treat you guys.” I shrug. 

Roxas sternly looks at me, more then a little tipsy. “You’re my family, you don’t have to do this all the time.” His words are so genuine they hit as hard as a punch to the gut. I know he means it. 

I grit my teeth to keep from showing any emotion of my face, even though Roxas had needled my heart. Sora leans heavily into my shoulder, moaning. 

“I think Sora needs to sleep.” 

“I’m fine. Shut up.” He protests. 

“We should go too.” Roxas says solemnly, like we all aren’t going to see each other tomorrow. 

I help Sora into his coat, even when he’s fighting me, and pick up his sports bag. He tries to wrestle it from me, but when I threaten to pick him up too, he gives up. Roxas and Sora hug while we wait for our separate trollies, and then head to our separate destinations. When we step off Sora looks up to the Victorian mansion style hotel and turns to me, eyes blazing with anger. 

“I said not the most expensive hotel!”

“You said nothing about the second most expensive.” I tease, leading him inside. Truthfully, I would have booked this hotel even if it was against the rules. The feel of it, like stepping into world within a world. The grandeur, the beauty. The old iron work twisting around each fixture with period appropriate furniture in every room, every detail perfect down to the white flowing curtains at every window. Not to mention the back gardens and the lush forest beyond them. The most expensive hotel faced the beach, and for me, and I’m sure Sora, the heavy wood was much more exotic. 

“Cheater,” he mumbles as we step into the elevator. 

He leans into me on the ride up. “Dizzy?” I ask, he nods only. I rub small circles into his back and coo in his ear. “Its okay. You’re alright.” Before we reach the top floor. 

“Penthouse?” He exclaims as I swing open the door. 

“Wasn’t against the rules.” I shrug. 

Sora stumbles forward, through the small beautifully laid out living room and into the back where there’s a large white bed. He flops into it moaning. 

I take off my coat and shoes and pull my hair back. I grab a water bottle from the small kitchen and place it on the nightstand by him commanding him to drink it. I also drag over one of the waste baskets and open the door to the bathroom in case we need quick entry. Then I kneel before him. 

“What are you doing?” He mumbles, with a blush that has little to do with his drunk flush. He’s pushed himself up on his elbows to look down at me. I don’t answer. Instead I slide off his shoes with care, and then his socks. I do so mechanically, but carefully. Then I push up and unzip his coat, he leans forward onto my chest as I take the jacket off him. I leave him for a moment to hang up the coat by the door and get him his sleep clothes. 

“Drink.” I command again, putting the not opened bottle of water in his hands. He does, I watch him down the whole thing then take it from him. “Can you dress yourself?” 

“Yes,” he says stubbornly. “I’m not that drunk.” 

“Okay.” I say, not trusting him. 

I pull out my own pajamas and begin to change. I feel Sora watching me. I feel his gaze burn into the naked bits of my body when I strip them of clothing. I hear him sigh, disgruntled, when I get redressed. Not so mad at me then. I think. Satisfied by his reaction. 

He does manage to undress and redress himself with only minimal wobbling. I bring him another water bottle and some Advil. “Drink.”

“I’m going to have to pee again.” He whines, sitting amongst the large decorative pillows with his head in his hands. 

“That’s the idea,” I say, nudging him with the bottle. 

He takes it, downs it, and does go to pee again. Good I think, maybe he won’t feel dizzy once he lays down. He joins me on the bed, curling around one of the large beaded pillows. 

“Even the bathroom is fancy!” 

“I’m a man of taste.” I say, not really in the mood to banter. I watch him carefully for signs of puke and secondly for signs of that same white-hot anger. He only lays crunched on the uncomfortable pillows, content to go to sleep in that terrible position. I chuckle softly, that’s beyond cute. 

I wrap an arm around him and lift him slightly, to tuck him under the covers and then I remove the decorative pillows and prop him up on the comfortable ones. The ones made for sleeping. 

“Sora,” I say gently, sitting at his side. He what’s at me sleepily. “I didn’t know she was going to kiss me.” 

His eyes open to glare at me. “You stayed in that kiss for a long time.” 

I take one of his hands and hold it, he lets me. “I was buzzed and confused. Do you want me to stop talking to her?”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I want.” 

“What do you want?” He could have requested the moon in that moment, and I would have figured out a way to give it to him, if it could absolve me from this. 

“I don’t know.” Even though a flash of something flickered behind his eyes. “Just promise me you aren’t in love with her.” 

Easy. "I'm not in love with her." 

“You’re only saying that because she’s my ex.” 

“I would never do that to you, and she is not my type.” 

“Your type…like Roxas.” I visibly roll my eyes, why did he have to say that? “Are you in love with Roxas?” His eyes practically bulge out of his head at the idea. 

“No,” I say laughing. What a ridiculous idea. 

Sora huffs. “Are you in love with anyone?” 

I swallow, unsure if I should lie. But, sometimes Sora is just as good at reading my mind as I am at reading his. He must’ve seen something there or been clued in by my thoughtful pause. 

“You are…” he breathes, accusing me. 

I don’t know how to answer. “Its not like that,” I say eventually, not sure how to look him in the face. If I confessed it would be to a drunk boy who by all accounts was not equipped to think rationally about such news. I had to be careful. I could always lie, but he’s already seen through me, even drunk I wasn’t sure if there was a lie I could tell him that he’d believe. Secretly, I enjoyed the twinge of jealousy in him. Not mad that I had kissed Kairi, but that Kairi had kissed me. 

Sora shakes his head, sitting up fully, less drunk by the second. “Then, what is it like?” 

“They wont ever like me back.” This was last week’s Riku’s mind set, but it was a hard one to shake. 

“I’ll kick their ass! You’re the best. Anyone who doesn’t see that is stupid. You’re beautiful, and smart, and talented and…and…” Sora licks his lips. “Who is it?” 

“Beautiful hm?”

“Shut up. Who is it?” He asks again, more impatient this time. 

I smirk. “A secret.” 

“We have pact! No secrets.” The trump card. 

But I have one better. “Tell me who your dream lover is then.” 

He stares at me in angry silence. Not drunk enough to share that particular secret. We’re at an impasse and he knows it. 

“I take it all back. You’re the worst.” He breathes, swallowing. “They must be pretty great though, for you to like them.” He shakes his head. “That sounded mean. I mean—” 

“I know.” I was cold to most people. The people who saw dollar signs when they looked at me. I squeeze the hand I’m holding. “They are. Pretty great.” I say truthfully. 

There must be something in the wat that I say it, or in my tone, that hits Sora. His expression is as if I slapped him. Incredulous. He’s going to cry. Am I breaking his heart? I back track. “Its nothing.” Sora shakes his head to try and keep from crying. I edge closer. “I’m sorry you didn’t know sooner. It never seemed important.” 

“You thought you being in love with someone wouldn’t be important to me?” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Do you think I only like you for your money?”

“What?” I say, thrown off, and then remember the off-handed comment I made earlier. I hadn’t realized how much it had affected him. “No. Of course not, Sora, I would never—” 

“You’re my best friend.” He cries out, putting his arms around me, burying his face in my shoulder. “You dumbass.” 

I tuck him in under my chin, where he curls into my chest without a fight. Where he fits against me. I hold him and rock him and shush him. 

Why am I doing this to him? To us? Justifications come clouding it. He’s drunk. He’s unsure. He’s never been interested in men before. Does he even really know what that means? But then why say anything at all? Why not try to lie? Why not explain it away? Why hurt him? 

I hold him until he falls asleep. Some part of me is still reserved. Reserved for who? If not Sora. 

Is it the fear of losing him that drives me away? That keeps me silent. Telling him I’m in love with someone but not him. There is no freedom in that. What if I have him and don’t know what to do with him? What if it’s all different? What if once I’m in a relationship with him he can’t get hard for me either? Or changes his mind? Or…? 

Is it better to fight against these feelings or give into the inevitability that I won’t be enough? 

The idea of the perfect moment, the one moment where I can be sure. Have security that this need I have is mutual. That when I take Sora will be willing to give and take in return as hungrily as I know I will. 

In the dead of night, I can hold him and pretend. The weight of him sleeping in my arms is where I want him, always, regardless of how much my back hurts or how much work I still have to do. I hold him. I feel him. In these moments, I have him. Captured. Caught. All mine. 

And still. And yet. 

There is no truth here. 

What if I don’t hold up to his dreams? But deeper than that. What if he doesn’t hold up to mine? Not Sora. He’s the brightest most beautiful boy I’ve ever known, but that’s just it isn’t it? I’ve imagined. I’ve idolized. I’ve constructed our relationship in my mind for four years. What it could be like. What it should be like. 

I’ve made up the boy who loves me and cast Sora in his role. 

While I ache in my deepest recesses to have him what is it that I want to have? The real or imagined? Can I stop myself from being disappointed if the fantasy I’ve built isn’t outdone by the real thing?

I don’t really know how to be Sora’s boyfriend and I’ve been auditioning for the part my whole life. 

Eventually, I lay him down. I watch him breathe for a moment. In and then out. Lips gently parted. Heavy sleep. Easy sleep. I move away from him and settle in at the large desk with a window over looking the back garden. I distract all the thoughts in my head, all desires, with projects presentations and papers. I study. I research. Becoming just a boy doing homework and nothing else. Certainly not a boy feeling things, questioning things. Not one having hope and then dashing it. 

I put in headphones. To drown out the destructive thoughts. The ones that will convince me to harden my heart to the boy I love most, and the one who could love me. An extra layer of protection around myself. 

The bathroom light flips on; Sora. Its almost two A.M. His face is flushed, similar to when he had that first wet dream. I missed it. I missed out. Had he called my name? Had be cried out for me? I wouldn’t ever know. 

After some time in the bathroom he pulls over a chair and sits heavily in it. Not back to bed. I pause my music so I can hear him. 

He makes a pained face at all the windows I have open on my computer and absentmindedly touches the spines of my text books. “What are you doing?” 

I shrug, easily. “Homework.” 

Sora huffs, stretching. “We’re on vacation.” He says, knowing full well that I can’t take breaks. I lift my arms so he can put his feet in my lap, he does automatically. I work my hands around his calloused feet, massaging without thinking, thankful to simply have my hands on him. What will be abnormal once he knows? 

“Did you have another sexy dream?” I smirk at him, unable to keep myself from asking. I can’t keep my mind focused on my work. 

The noise he makes is a mix between frustrated and unwilling. “Yes.” He says harshly. Yes. A yes he’d rather have been a no. 

“But--?” I ask, sensing the underneath, the thing I can’t guess. 

Sora frowns in a way that splits me in two. A sadness beyond sadness. A brokenness beyond brokenness. An empty look that gave prelude to hopelessness. I’d never seen him look so devastated. Sad, sure, but this…could I really do this to him? If it had anything to do with me at all. 

Before answering he pulls his feet from my lap, separating himself from me. 

“But,” he echoes, distant. “They were with someone else. It wasn’t very…sexy…it was awful.” Sora throws his head back and breathes out a long breath, with a tiny voice he says. “I don’t know what to do.”   
I’m so paralyzed by this confession I practically stall out. Me? With someone else? Could this bother him so much? I’m taken back to when I first found him and Kairi alone, how I would have done anything to get between them. Simultaneously I’m reminded of just how many sexual partners I’ve had. How that sex dream is not that far from reality. 

If only I could find the words to tell him there’s no one else I want to even lay a finger on. 

“Come here.” I say instead, swiveling my chair to face him. All I want right now is him close to me. I regret having put him down in the first place. 

Sora shakes his head no. “I’m okay.” And then adds. “Come to bed soon, okay? I worry about you.” And then gets back under the covers, turning his back to me. 

He’s running away from me. I close my laptop and join him in bed. Sora turns to me, mild shock coloring his features. I have a lot of work to do and he knows it. 

“Can’t get away from me that easy,” I say. 

Sora’s eyes get so big I think for a moment he’s going to cry again. He whispers. “I don’t want to get away from you.” And I can see it, I recognize it. The act of caging in your emotions after you accidently set one loose. 

“Then come here,” I repeat and pull him close to me before anything else is said. Before he shakes his head and tells me he’s okay. Before he moves away from me. When I have him against me, I expect to feel some kind of reassurance, to give and receive it. Sora holds his body tight, wound, focused until he drifts to sleep and only then does he relax. A part of him guarded even until the last moments before rest. Hidden from me. Held back from me. 

I can’t sleep. I try. Try to match Sora’s breathing. Try to find the peace I usually only feel when we’re like this—it doesn’t come. I lie awake thinking, endlessly, returning to that image of his broken face. That broken face that must have reflected his broken heart. How could I have done that to him? 

I pretend to be asleep when Sora wakes up, going so far as to generate a small snore. I feel him push his cheek into my chest, press and hold himself tight against me. He spends a long moment listening to my heart beat, feeling my chest rise and fall. Then he mumbles, mostly to himself. “Why do you have to be in love with someone else?”

I pretend to be startled by something and jolt awake. He’s to flustered to analyze me closely. To worried that I heard him. That I would know. “Time?” I ask briskly. Stretching. This I try to make sound as normal as possible. 

“Uhm,” he rolls over, waking up his phone. “Almost nine.” 

“Hm,” later then I thought. “I need some coffee.” 

“Did you get up again?” 

I shake my head, deciding on a bit of honesty. “Had a hard time falling asleep.” 

He grabs a bit of my hair, right at the end, just enough for a slight tug. “Go back to sleep. I’ll go get breakfast and I’ll be back.” 

He doesn’t listen to me when I protest. Doesn’t give in to us going together. To ordering room service. When I try to get up, he practically sits on me. “I mean it! Stay. I’ll be right back.” 

I arch my eyebrows but lay back down. What was he trying to prove?

I watch him get dressed. Light colored jeans, a long sleeve blue shirt, then finally the bright red jacket I made him pack. He catches me staring. “What?” he asks, looking down at himself. 

“It’s weird seeing you in pants is all.” That wasn’t all. He looked good. The jeans were much tighter than the shorts he wore back home. I caught myself thinking about undressing him, slowly, unwrapping his layers. 

“Does it look bad?” 

“No. You look good.” 

Sora flushes. “Thanks. I’m serious. Don’t move. Try and sleep.” 

“Okay. I’ll try.” Not wanting to tell him that if I couldn’t sleep when he was next to me there was hardly any chance I was going to be able to alone. 

When he leaves, I masturbate, half disgusted with myself. The orgasm I have is subpar, clouded. I do it partly to release, and partly to give a hand to my desires. To quiet them. When he comes back flushed from the cold, I know it hasn’t worked. 

I pretend to wake up a second time. 

“Stay!” he commands. Again, I lay back, what was he up to? 

“Since when do you drink coffee?” I ask, gesturing at the second coffee cup. 

Sora swallows looking caught. “They’re both for you. I couldn’t remember what flavor was your favorite, which is so stupid because you make this stuff all the time. I should know, but I couldn’t decide. So, I got both.” His words are a flurry, all muddled together. Worried, as if I would ever think less of him. 

“And I’m still in bed because?” 

“Because!” He exaggerates, before bringing me a to-go package and the first of my coffees. “You’re going to stay there and relax for a minute. You’ve been working so hard. You deserve a break.” I take my breakfast, thanking him. He goes back for his own, and the second cup. 

It’s a simple breakfast sandwich paired with fried potatoes. 

Before digging in he watches me nervously. I take a sip out of one of the cups. Vanilla. I wince at the initial wave of heat. 

“See! This is why I got two. I know I’d get it wrong and—” 

“Sora.” I say, cutting him off. “Its just to hot. Whatever flavor they are I could really use two so that’s perfect. Thank you.” 

His relief is so apparent I don’t know what to make of it. Why is he trying so hard? 

“Is it cold out?” I ask between bites. 

Sora waivers. “I think it is, but I’m always cold here, even in the summer.” 

“Hollow Bastian is colder. They get a lot more snow.” I smile at the idea of seeing all of Sora’s wild hair flattened down into a hat. Would we experience snow for the first time together? It’d be so different from the eternal sunshine. I started looking forward to the newness of it. 

Sora smiles too. I am hyper aware of how hyper aware he is of me. I know what it is and yet I cannot give it a name. Its bothering me, the familiarity. 

He finishes before me and flops down on his back next to me when I am done. “That’s was good. Did you think it was good?” 

“Yeah, pretty good. I haven’t eaten in bed in a long time. What’s gotten into you?” 

Sora makes a half shrug motion that is anything but nonchalant. “It’s about time I start taking care of you too, don’t you think?” His tone is so casual it feels calculated. Its then I know. He’s trying to prove what a good boyfriend he could be. 

“You take care of me plenty.” 

Sora rolls onto his stomach. “Nu-uh! You’re the one. You normally get us food, and keep me on schedule, and make sure I pack a coat and—” 

“And you make me happy.” I say it before thinking. “Listen. I don’t need you to do things for me. You have faith in me, Sora, that’s more important to me then making sure I pack a coat. I can’t compare to that.”

Sora shakes his head, clearly overwhelmed. “Still. I like this too. I can be whatever you want.” 

I brush my thumb over the corner of his mouth, using the crumbs there as an excuse to touch him. He holds my gaze for a very, very long time. I know he’d let me kiss him if I wanted to. 

But I don’t. 

Not because I don’t want to, but because if I kissed him, I know he’d believe he was second best. A stand in for someone else he thinks I’m in love with. 

“Should we get going?” I ask, making myself move away from him. 

“Yeah, probably.” His tone his sullen. Disappointed. He frowns, deep in thought, in a place I can’t reach him. I’ve never not been able to reach him. 

While I’m getting dressed, I ask. “I’d like to take some pictures of sunset valley tonight. You want to come, or should I go by myself?” 

“I want to go with you.” 

Soon. I promise him silently. Soon. 

~.~

Anxiety – Julia Michaels


	5. The Epiphany

The Epiphany -

Axel opens the door in a much to small bathrobe, he leans dramatically onto the doorframe. 

“You look like shit,” he says matter of factly to me, and then much more cheerfully. “Hey Sora!” 

“Hey Axel,” Sora replies. 

“Roxas is in the bedroom.” 

Sora hesitates, his eyes flitting between Axel and me and Axels very high hem line. I wave him off, his face flashes with a moment of hurt before entering the apartment. 

“Where can I set up?” I ask. 

Axel leads me a bit further into the apartment. Its much a smaller than mine but its theirs for sure. Struggle magazines everywhere, a base guitar in the corner. The space filled with mismatched thrifted furniture, some pure black, some a variety of patterns and colors. It felt like Axel and Roxas’s home, and while I wouldn’t be able to stand living here I respected that. 

“I’ve been thinking about some poses,” he says. 

“Okay, lets see what you got.” 

Axel does a series of poses much to complicated for what I want, mostly standing, some balancing. Greek God statue poses. He held them well, he was a good shape for them, very broad in shoulders narrowing down to a trim waist. If I was sculpting him or wanted to do a series of drawings it would have been perfect. 

“Can you hold that for thirty minutes to an hour?” I ask after he shows me one where he’s standing on one leg. 

“Yes,” he says boldly, challenge in his bight green eyes. 

“I doubt it.” 

“Watch me,” and I believed that he would hold it perfectly just to prove me wrong, just to spite me for saying that he couldn’t. 

“Its not what I’m looking for, get undressed and lay down.” 

He makes a show of removing his robe and then frowns when I don’t react, he flops down exaggeratedly. I set to work, grabbing all the pillows I can find, again he poses dramatically, sticking his chest out, watching me with a smoldering expression. 

“Do you have any spare sheets?” 

“Linen closet.” He points. 

I get one. When I return, he’s relaxed some. He has no problem being naked. Which is good. Nervous energy isn’t always fun to express. His confidence alone will be a much larger challenge for me to capture.

I start by draping the sheet over the back of the couch, flipping it up and letting it fall so it looks natural while trying to manufacture pleasant folds in the fabric. Some of it I gather and lay over Axel’s waist and then down to the floor. 

“Covering my best feature,” he teases. 

I say nothing. I don’t react. I don’t tell him that while I want him nude I don’t want to commit his cock and balls to memory, or paper. I continue working. Delicately I pose him, using pillows to prop him up, every so often asking if he’s comfortable. 

When I look up both Sora and Roxas are standing behind the couch, watching me. 

“You’re so serious when you work,” Roxas chides before walking around the couch. 

I take a little time setting up, unfolding my small easel, a set of pens and a few soft pastels—mostly reds and greens. Axel colors. 

Roxas stands and stares at what I’ve done for a moment and then leans down to whisper in my ear. “Can I have this when you’re done?” 

“Maybe.” I say, pulling my hair up and out of my face. “Depends on if I can put it in my portfolio or not.” 

“You’re such a butt.” 

Sora hasn’t moved, his eyes haven’t left me. I motion him over, and as if unfrozen comes to stand by my side. “What do you think?” I ask him. 

“Yeah Sora. What do you think?” Even Axels voice has so much personality. 

He nods a million miles away. “You’ll turn it into something great.” 

“Hey!” 

I squeeze one of his hands. “Its not Axel.” I say softly. I watch him unwind a worry and put it away. “Go. Have fun.” 

“I’ll be back before sunset.” 

I nod and smile. 

“Be good!” Roxas calls from the doorway in place of goodbye. 

“Do you want me to turn on the T.V. or anything before we get started?” 

“Nah. I’m cool.” 

“You can move your head for now, I’ll tell you when I need you to be still.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Don’t,” I say harshly, “Call me sir.” 

“I bet you wish Sora would call you sir,” he mutters, I ignore him, starting a rough outline of his form. 

I’ve decided not to draw the couch itself. Axel and the sheet and the shadows in between but just that, nothing else. I’ve chose a soft sepia toned canvas, which will hopefully subdue his colors once I put them in. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” I ask, I couldn’t get it out of my head. 

“Only if I can ask you a personal question.” He counters, tit for tat.

“That’s fair,” I keep working, “The tattoos under your eyes—” 

“Hot right?” He interrupts me, wiggling his brows. 

“They’re scars. Or they were first, before you had them filled in. How’d you get them?” Axels tattoos were very noticeable, on an otherwise unmarked body to have two small face tattoos, made his whole look even more extreme. As I’d been posing him I’d seen that the skin was marred, almost perfectly, deliberately. 

Axel sighs angrily, he hadn’t been expecting my question. I don’t think he would have answered if I hadn’t promised a personal answer in return for his. He swishes words around in his mouth before he speaks. 

“You should know first that my mom died when I was young, and my dad was a drunk.” I keep working, giving him time. “One night I came home late, after curfew, not unusual for me but I was with a boy. Should have know better I guess, but I wanted to throw it in his face. I wanted him to look at me, even in anger. Look at your imperfect gay son, asshole. He did. He chased my date out, not Roxas—” he says as if trying to assure me. “Well, I was eighteen so…”

“Roxas would have been twelve.” 

“When you put it like that you make me feel gross.” 

“I would have been thirteen.” 

“Children, all of you.” 

“Tell me what happened next.” I say, calmly, not demanding, but letting him know I hadn’t forgotten. 

Axel grits his teeth. “He burned my face with a poker from the fire pit. He said. ‘You’re disgusting, got it memorized?’ as he did it. You know what the shittiest part is? I just let him. You think after the first one I would have stood up and punched him. Nope. I let him line up the next one and burn me.” 

“That sucks,” I say, because I have nothing else to say. What a cruel and unusual and inexcusable thing for a father to do, no matter how drunk or heart broken. 

Axel smiles. “Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“For not saying ‘I’m sorry’.” 

“What did Roxas say when you told him?” 

“That’s two personal questions.” 

“I’m good for it,” I promise also not forgetting our exchange. 

Axel laughs softly. He’d kept his shape exactly as Id posed him throughout our conversation. Other people would have gotten lax. Get to immersed in talking. I’m impressed. I start filling in with ink, refining him on paper. 

“I haven’t told him,” he’s quiet for a moment. “His parents are so fucking cool. His mom hugs me hello. The first time we met she made my favorite meal because Roxas told her I loved it. She wanted to know about me. His dad clapped me on the back and told me embarrassing stories about the twins. I was family, instantly. Roxas had chosen me and that was it. End of discussion. No questions about my age or my gender. And now I have you guys too. Sora texts me to see how I’m doing. To check in on me. Just because he’s thinking about me. I have nothing to offer Roxas like that. If I just got to have him, I’d count my lucky stars but this too? Fuck, you know?” 

“I do, I know.” While he’s talking I capture his expression. I don’t mean to, not consciously, but his emotion is so real and raw its transcendent. Once I put in the green of his eyes it’ll be undeniable. The feeling, the feeling of feeling itself. 

Axel nods, not fighting me. 

“You got to grow up with them. What’s that like? To have your person as your childhood friend?” 

“Is this my first one?” 

“Yup.” 

“Well,” I draw out, wondering how to answer. I know he’s asking about my feelings and if he hadn’t been so candid I would blow him off. “I don’t remember the first time we spoke. I don’t remember when we met. Our parents were already neighbors when we were born that it just was. He’s always been there, Roxas too I guess but he never had much interest in me. Sora was my friend. I think he likes people like me.”

“People like you?” I’d count that as my second question if I was being petty, but I don’t.

“Broken people. Angry people.” 

“I think he just likes you” Axel says, and I believe him. For whatever reason, maybe it’s the easy way he says it. Such an uncalculated sentiment, that when it comes out of his mouth it feels true. 

“Maybe. He’s been my side for a long time. When I was twelve my parents sent me for a summer abroad. They wanted me to be more cultured. They’d said. Be more educated. They’d said. I think they just didn’t want to deal with me while they traveled for work. The school was hard. I was expected to debate, read at a college level, do calculous, and learn two languages.” 

“Did you? Learn two languages?” 

“I learned three. All in the hopes of getting some kind of affection from them. Even the mean teachers spoke highly of me. Very quiet, very studious. Not a word, not from either of them. But Sora, Sora also didn’t care that Id learned three languages, he’d just missed me, I didn’t have to do anything to buy him.” I pause, remembering. “His mom asked my mom if I could stay with them in the summer instead, so she didn’t have to deal with Sora moping around the house. They’d agreed. I still had to do a lot of online schoolwork but in exchange I’d move in with Sora. Every summer. It was such a change of pace to being asked how my day was, every day, and have the adult asking care about my answer. 

“I don’t really know how to answer your question,” I keep working. “To grow up next to my person. When I was lonely it was comforting, when I was bored it was fun, when Kairi moved in…it was challenging.” 

“Sora’s ex right?” 

“Yeah, the girl who kissed me last night.” 

“Shit.” 

“Shit,” I agreed. 

“You’re parents sound like assholes.” 

“They are but being their son has afforded me a lot of luxuries.” 

“How come?”

“They’re rich. They’re investors. They invest in stuff like stocks, products, houses, political leaders, resorts, businesses, really anything that wont fail. They take a cut from investing in that thing for almost its entire lifespan. Just for an example and not because I’m trying to brag, but they own the private island we used to play on as kids.” 

Axel whistles. “Damn mister money bags, you can treat me anytime.” 

I laugh, he’s one of the only people that this news hasn’t changed his opinion of me. “Should I order food?” 

“Hell yeah, some quality ‘Za!” 

“I’m done with the sheet, stretch if you need to.”

“Can I see?” I nod and he comes over, fully, unashamed in his nakedness. 

He looks at it for a long moment. The proportions are perfect, I know they are. Did he hate it? 

“Put the tattoos in,” he says finally. 

“You sure?” 

“Put them in.” 

“You got it.” 

“You’re very good.” A so serious inflection from a normally not very serious man that his compliment makes me uncomfortable. 

I brush him off. “Put that robe back on, I’m tired of seeing your dick.” 

I order pizza and as we wait we talk trivially back and forth. Small talk questions, I just met you questions. He tells me a little about his band, a little about bartending. I tell him a little about my art, a little about school. By all accounts, especially after such heavy conversation it should have been awkward, but its not. Axel has a weird magnetism about him, the ability to keep you talking, ask the right question, tell the right story. Seem interested, listen, and not talk to much about himself. 

I like him more than I thought I would. Originally Id only come here for Sora, but now I thought Axel and I might actually end up friends. 

The pizza comes and we eat it. Axel opens a box and exclaims. “The good stuff!” before taking his portion. 

“I’ve been thinking about my second question.” He takes a big bite and chews on it. “I might be wasting it, but, how far have you gone with Sora?” 

I furrow my brow, catching his meaning but not wanting to admit it. “What do you mean?”

He plays along. “Dude, the tension between you two is so thick I could breathe it in last night. And what was that ‘Its not Axel’ thing, that had some weird sexual energy.” 

“We haven’t don’t anything sexual. We haven’t gone anywhere.” 

“Don’t lie. That’s not fair.” 

I shake my head, bemused. “Not lying. We sleep in the same bed. He lets me hold him. Sometimes we hold hands. But that’s it. I swear.” 

“That explains why its so bad. You got to get on that.” 

“I’m working on it.” 

“What’s taking you so long?” 

“That’s a third.” 

“Damn I knew I blew that last one. Tell me anyway. I’m good for it.” 

I breathe in slowly. “His parents are so fucking cool.” I say, emulating him. “If he doesn’t want me, I lose not only him but everything that comes with him; my family. His parents, Roxas, now you. What happens if I’m not enough?” 

“Stop that man. I’m telling you right now Sora loves you. Remember he doesn’t care if you learn three languages. He just loves you.” 

I nod, trying to believe him as easily as I had the last time. “Roxas loves you that way. Kairi has a twin too, did you know? Namine. Roxas and her dated all through high school on and off. He was miserable without knowing it. Everyone called him the stoic twin. Now he’s so happy its infectious. He smiles more now then he ever did when we were kids.” 

“Yeah well, what can I say? I’m great.” Axel says lightly, but I know what I said means a lot to him. 

“Debatable, now lay back down. I’m not done.” 

I draw until just before sunset. Axel only asks for one pee break, but we don’t really talk anymore. I wait, and wait, but no Sora. Sunset is not forever. I get up. I do want pictures of sunset valley even if I wanted to use the couple centric local for other purposes. 

“I’m going to go. I’m not done but I can finish on my own. I’ll leave it for Roxas to see though.” I say, pocking my smaller sketchbook and compact box of pastels. 

“Want me to come?” 

“Nah, I’ll only be gone for like twenty minutes.” 

“Okay. What should I have you get for dinner?” He teases. 

“Text me if I need to pick something up.” 

“I’m kidding. Left over pizza is my favorite.” 

I shake my head at him before leaving. 

Sunset valley is one of the most beautiful architectural landscapes I’ve ever seen. So unlike home I can’t help but marvel at it every time I visit. Wanting pictures of all the brick work buildings. The passing trolleys. The outlying woods. All bathed the soft glow of afternoon light.

Its fall here, the trees in the park-like groves changing color. On the islands the seasons do not change, its always summer. Always. I’ve painted the same sun going down over the same ocean so many times I never want to do it ever again. Not when other worlds hold views like this. 

When I find the train tracks leading through the forest and directly into the sunset I know my phone camera won’t do. I find a spare bit of brick ledge and quickly map out the scene in pastels, worried I’ll lose the light. 

I wish Sora was here.

What would he be saying? ‘I’m hungry’ maybe or talking about his game or his visit with Roxas or…I push the image of him away. Its not as good as the real thing. 

Its right then I know I have to go. Axels words stewing around in me, and my own realization. Nothing, no amount of pretending will ever be as good as the real thing. I have to find him. I have to. I have to tell him how I feel. Even if the outcome isn’t what I want. Even if nothing comes of it. He has to know. If I don’t tell him I know that’s the way that I will truly lose everything. 

When I turn, he’s there, as if called by my want and just is. He’s flushed. He’s been running. 

“Sorry,” he says, out of breath. “I got caught up with Roxas—” He sets his eyes on what I was doing, what I was about to abandon in search of him, seeing my work before the view it was inspired by. “Wow, this is amazing—” 

I can’t wait anymore. I don’t think with him in front of me. Here, now, exactly when I wished for him. I catch his face in my hands and press my mouth to his. I feel him gasp softly against my lips and then his arms find purchase around my shoulders. 

I kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, and he kisses me back. Slowly at first and then more generously. 

The heat of his mouth against mine burns. His warm wet kisses as he loses himself in me. Its nothing like I expected it to be. I never want it to end. 

I pull away and kiss his forehead. His hands move to my wrists, holding the hands that hold his face. So many questions forming in his eyes. 

“Its you. Its always been you.” 

~.~

If you want love – NF


	6. The Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult content from this point forward

The Change – 

Sora can’t quite look at me as we walk into downtown together. There were many restaurants in Sunset Valley but none with private rooms. None where we could be alone without being out in the open. I’d called ahead, using the Genova name to ensure that even at the late hour a room would be made available for us. Sora had texted Roxas to tell him we wouldn’t be back but that we’d all get brunch together tomorrow. 

When Id suggested we go back to the hotel Sora went wide eyed and flushed a crimson so deep I thought he might explode. I hadn’t suggested it for anything dirty, but I couldn’t blame him for thinking that of me. Now that I had a taste I wanted more. 

My mouth went cold when I remembered the warmth our kiss had brought me. 

Had I fucked up? 

Sora barely blinked, using too much of his mind to think himself in circles. 

“Hey,” I say on the way. When he looks up at me I take the cowards route and do no meet his gaze. “If you want it to be no big deal, I can pretend its not.” Id been pretending my whole life after all. 

“No,” his voice is small but appalled. “That’s not what I want. Is it much further?” 

My heart swelled. That’s not what I want. If only I knew what he wanted. If when I was in his dreams I was really there to witness their contents. To know what he craved. What his mind conjured up when he desired me. 

“No. There it is.” I point to one of the taller buildings. When I look at him my eyes fixate on his mouth. We’ve kissed. Fantasy no longer. When my focus lessons I see his scornful expression. 

He points. “Black tie.” 

I point at me. “Genova.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Why are we going somewhere so fancy?” 

“I searched for restaurants with small private rooms. Unless you want to talk about this out in the open?” he blanches. “Or we could go back to the hotel?” 

He swallows. “Fine, into the fancy people place. I bet they’ll have tiny portions for like a million munny.” 

That makes me laugh hard. I shouldn’t. I’m promptly rewarded with a small smack on my arm. Was it this easy? To go back to feeling like everything was normal? Or is it because its us? Because normal is when he’s with me? 

Sora matches my sudden sullenness, my quiet contemplation. 

I don’t need to show I.D. at the door, my face being identification enough. We are led past a line of waiting guests and then through the restaurant filled with ladies in fine dresses and men in full suits, while we are in jeans and jackets. My father taught me how to act like I belong no matter what situation, to look down at those who would judge me and with that lesson in mind I turn my face into a challenge. I feel Sora fidget with the edge of his coat nervously. His eyes scanning the modern classy decor. Even the waiters wore collared shirts and ties. 

On instinct I reach back and squeeze one of his hands. A reminder that he’s with me. I know he hates places like this. 

Now that I was thinking more clearly I guess we could have found a private place in the valley no matter how full it was of weekend couples, but when I’d asked him if he’d eaten he’d said no. Two birds, one restaurant. 

We’re led upstairs, past watchful eyes and up to a hallway lined with many closed doors. One is opened to us and were told our waiter will be with us in a moment. 

The room is quaint with a two-person table dressed in a matt black cloth. Two lone wine glasses in their respective places. The far wall is made entirely of glass, giving an impressive view of the city from on high which is now ablaze with many different colored lights. Street lamps, string lights, a couple of large baubles in the center squares. The moon seems so much further away in this world, a distant orb. At home our moon is close, sometimes taking up a large portion of the sky when full. 

I take several photos of various backgrounds. So very different from home. Everything here is clustered, built together, the buildings huddled around trolly tracks that lead along tight roads with barley any open spaces. 

Sora is also avidly watching the outside world, his eyes fixed on a couple holding hands. I take a photo of him. 

“Hey!” He exclaims, “Delete that!” 

“Not a chance.” 

The waiter joins us and introduces herself; she’s brought us two water glasses and shows us the buzzer to push when were ready to order, and then leaves. 

Normally, Sora would continue to fight me, but he doesn’t. I place a hand on the small of his back and lean into him. He freezes. I bring my lips to his ear and whisper. “Take off your coat.” 

His throat bobs delicately with a hard swallow. I watch his trembling hands undo his zipper, then he shrugs out of the jacket and lays it on the back of his chair before returning to my side. I swear I feel disappointment in him when I don’t move again. 

Would he mind? We haven’t said anything about it. I don’t know how to say anything about it. Or what it means for me, for us. For where we go from here. Or what extra permissions I have to touch him. I’ve thought about this day for years and yet no matter how many monologues I relayed out loud to myself standing with him now I had no words. What words could truly capture the gratitude I feel just for being able to kiss him. 

Sora is scarlet and silent. 

Slowly, I brush a finger over his blushed cheek, then up around the curve of his left ear, then I thread my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Sora is the stillest I’ve ever seen him as if I were an animal he’d scare away if he moved. Maybe he was right about that. 

I bring my mouth down to rest just above his and linger, waiting for any hesitation. 

Sora pushes up and closes the gap between us. 

I feel like I’m on fire with his mouth against mine, especially as he made more exaggerated movements, his nose digging into my cheek. The wet and the warmth of him sent heat to my groin. Sora rests his hands on my chest. I draw him in hungrily. 

Firmly, I keep one hand at the back of his neck and one at his hip. Pressing and holding these places. Not allowing my hands to wander. I wanted nothing more then to push him up against the glass and bend him to my every will. 

I make myself pull away at the overwhelming urge to undress him. 

“Sit.” I tell him. 

Clumsily he does as he’s told. Opening his menu. I take a sip of water and also open mine. 

He makes a small sound of discontent. Nothing is below 2000 munny. 

“Ignore price, order whatever sounds good. Do you want wine?” 

That flush seems rather permanent. “Yes.” Normally he would say no. 

Sora closes his menu, but I’m not sure he even really looked at it. “You know don’t you?” I wait, my silence urging him to be less vague. “That it’s your name I say after—” He lowers his voice, embarrassed. “Those dreams.” 

I nod. “And you know that when I said I was in love with someone that I meant you.” The words scare me, but they purge out of me, ready to be said. 

Sora’s face fills with realization and relief. “You’re in love with me?” 

“What do you think I meant by, ‘its you,’ after I kissed you?” 

Shame flashes across his features. “I don’t know. I wanted it to mean that so bad I thought, maybe, I’d made it up.” 

“You didn’t make it up. Should we order?” I push the button and our waitress returns promptly, taking our orders with polite professionalism. 

Once she’s gone Sora asks tentatively. “How long…have you known?” 

“Fifteen was when I realized my feelings for you.” I pause. “Or do you mean about the dreams?” 

What ever he meant his eyes go wide. “Fifteen? I’ve only felt this way for almost a month. How did you not go crazy?” 

“I did. I was mad all the time. I’m sure you remember.” 

“You tried to stop being my friend.” His voice lost to the memory. “I thought it was because of Kairi. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

I shrug. “What would have been the point, you loved Kairi…” 

“If I had known—” 

I shake my head. “You loved her. I’m sure you still do—” 

“Its not the same!” He says, cutting me off. 

I sigh, how could I make him understand? “You were thirteen. If I had told you, what then? Would we have dated through high school instead of you and Kairi? Would you have accepted me that young? Your best friend? A boy?” I’m upsetting him, he was going to cry. I take one of his hands, rubbing a thumb over the smooth skin. “It wasn’t the right time.” 

“I guess. I hate that you went through it alone.” 

“You were good to me, even when I was mean to you.” 

Sora squeezes my hand. “You had a lot going on, even without that.” 

Our food comes, decent sized portions, both some kind of colorful pasta. We both pick at our meals and instead drink the wine. 

“Can I ask you something?” I say, after pouring my second glass and Sora’s third. Both only one third full, I didn’t want either of us drunk. 

“Of course.” 

“What changed?” His brows furrow, the tick of his head enough to express his confusion. “What changed for you to start having dreams about me?” 

“Oh.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t think anything changed.” I open my mouth to protest, everything was different now, down to the way he looked at me, the way he reacted to me coming into the room or standing close to him. His sparks met mine, there was energy between us that simply hadn’t been there before. He cuts me off. 

“I’ve always known I like it when you touch me. I’ve always known you were attractive. I’ve always known that you are my best friend, but more then that my home. I don’t know. I didn’t allow myself to start thinking what if until I started having the dreams. What if…its more then that. And those things are because of a bigger thing. Even that I kind of pushed away because me and Kairi were having problems, and at the time, I thought that’s what it felt like to love someone. Even if what I feel for you is way different. What changed is, honestly, when Kairi confronted me about the dreams and I couldn’t deny it anymore. That it is more.” Sora’s face fill with regret. “When you said you were in love with someone I went a little crazy. I thought there was this person in your life that I had over looked. And then when Kairi kissed you, I have never wanted to punch anyone in the face that bad. I hate that she kissed you before I got to. I hate it.” 

I reach for his hand and he gives it, searching his eyes for any lie, but he’s the boy I’ve always known. So open and honest when he’s really feeling something true. “I want to be very clear that it’s you. I’m in love with you.” 

Sora flushes, red on red. “Can we go?” 

“You haven’t eaten, aren’t you hungry?”

“Not really. No.” 

I have our food boxed, wine corked, and with the bill paid we head back to the hotel. To be honest, I’m afraid to be alone with him, afraid I’ll push to far, that if he kisses me that way again the beast inside me will break loose. The darkness threatening to blind me with take. Take before it’s too late. Before he decides he was wrong that he doesn’t -want me as more. That he doesn’t want me at all. 

I’m afraid I’ll mess this whole thing up. 

We make small talk on the trolley. Sora shivers from the brisk autumn air which I find exceptionally cute. He lets me put an arm around him and shelter into the hotel and up into our room where he promptly turns up the heat. 

“I don’t know what were going to do next year,” I say while putting our food away. Next year in Hollow Bastian. 

“I’ll have to invest in pants.” 

“And figure out how to play Blitzball in the snow.” 

A strange contemplation crosses his face at the idea, something he hadn’t thought about and then shrugs, as if ‘oh well’. It was all still easy, easy to talk to him, but everything still felt unresolved. He wants me as more. He knows I’m in love with him. We’ve kissed. Does that make us a couple? Were we dating, or going to date? 

What was it exactly that he wanted from me? 

Once its warm enough Sora sheds his coat, this is where, on a normal night, he’d change into sleep clothes, but instead he falters and ends up sitting back with me on the couch. 

“I can turn my back while you change.” I tell him. 

“I hate when you do that.” 

“What?” 

“Read my mind.” 

That makes me laugh. “Well?” 

He pouts slightly. “Its stupid, right? You’ve seen me naked a hundred times.” 

“Its okay,” I say brushing some of his hair back from his forehead. “Change in the bathroom. I understand how new all of this is for you.” 

While Sora’s in the bathroom I also change and then pull out the spare bed, reminded slightly of the night he’d called my name. Had that been only a week ago? I’m fitting a sheet when Sora comes back into the main room in full on pajamas. Not just boxers and a shirt like I am wearing. Maybe he was already regretting everything. I hadn’t thought anything about wearing bottoms. This was normal. I guess it wasn’t now.

“What are you doing?” He asks, confrontationally. 

“Making the bed.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I’m making the bed I’m going to sleep in.” 

“Why?” 

“You couldn’t change in front of me Sora.” I say, noticing the harsh tone in my voice and softening it. “Its only one night.” 

“I only couldn’t because I’m--! Fine! Have it your way.” Sora huffs abruptly, embarrassed by something and then storms over to the bed where he cocoons himself into an angry ball. 

I’m--! He’d said. He’s what? Then it clicks in my stupid, slow brain. He’s hard. 

I abandon the half-made bed and slide into the covers next to him, unraveling him. He doesn’t turn to face me. I don’t even think he takes a breath. I press my lips to his neck delicately. I flick my tongue out to taste him, salt and sand the always taste of island boys. Sora lets out a small sound of surprise that strikes me right to the core. My erection presses against the fabric of my boxers, searching for flesh. 

Its then that Sora turns, flushed. “I feel like I’m on fire,” he breathes, as if the room were filling with smoke. I could swear he took the words straight from my mind. On fire. Burning up from the inside out. 

I search his face, we’re in bed together already. “Can I touch you?” 

“Yes.” There’s a nervous inflection in the way he says it, but I can’t think about that now. I don’t. I cover his mouth with my own, he kisses my back with fever, like we’re two starving men. My hands are everywhere on his body, everywhere I imagined touching I touch. The curve of his adams apple, the dip in his collar bones, the lines along his taught torso and lastly down the back of his pajama pants under his boxers where I cup his bare ass in my hands. 

I’ve always admired his butt; it was perfectly round but firm. I knead the flesh in my palms, pinching it up against his backside. I do this more then once. 

Sora keeps making these small whining noises between kisses that drive me crazy and lets me know I’ve hit a spot he likes. His hands clasping tighter and tighter into the fabric of my shirt. 

When I move him he obeys, fluidly going where I lead him. Trusting me. Allowing me. I sit up, trying my best to never break our kisses for long, and place my back against the padded headboard, he straddles me without me guiding him to do so. He rests his elbows on my shoulders, hands in my hair. 

Through our clothing our erections come together for the first time. I moan; he is hard. Sora throws his head back with another sound, this one much louder. I attack his neck, biting and licking and sucking the exposed skin. 

I take his hips and grind him down into me, loving the feel of his weight, his heat as we moved against each other again and again and again even as the fabric constricted and chafed. I craved skin on skin. His skin on my skin. To feel us together that way, we’d be closer than we’d ever been before. 

He lets me pull the shirt off of him, lets me mark his chest, lets me suck his perfectly brown nipples, coating him in spit. He’d begun rocking his hips on his own without any input from me. He lets me lift him up and remove his pants, helping me by kicking them off. Finally, I all but tear off his boxers. 

He’s fully naked on top of me. I stare down at his body. I’d never seen his bare hard dick before. Its average in size but just as tan as the rest of him. It stands straight against his stomach, a white dot of liquid peaking from the tip. I don’t touch him. Not yet. 

“Riku,” he says gently, nervously. 

“You’re so beautiful.” I tell him, kissing his sweetly. I’m drowning: I’m a drowning man who never before had a drop to drink. 

My hand at his bare hip I press, asking him to resume our rhythm, he does. Grinding down on me again. Closer to me. One layer of cloth between us. Gods. I could barley believe this was happening. In our movements my cock slips out of the front slit of my boxers unexpectedly. Flesh to flesh. I moan into Sora’s mouth, a new blossoming warmth coursing through my whole body. I feel Sora twitch, with an ‘Ah’ he can’t contain. 

He pauses to look down at me. At us, together. I’m a lot bigger than he is, just under eight inches. At the sight of our two cocks crossed the wall I had built comes crashing down. 

Roughly I pull one of his hands from my hair and spit into it, spreading the spit with my tongue, and then I spit again. I lead it down to between us. It would be easy for him to fight me, but he doesn’t, he only pulls my hair tighter with his other hand. I wrap our hands around us, first his and then mine. He’s shaking. I can’t tell from fear or pleasure, and I’m to far gone to care. 

With my hand over his I guide him, my free hand at the back of his neck pressing him roughly against my mouth as we stroked our lengths together. His hips rocking as if I was still pulling him down on me, and the sounds, good lord, the sounds he made. The flush on his cheeks, the forming bruises where I had marked him, everything drove me crazy. 

“Riku,” he whines tightly, then again. “Riku, I—” I never wanted to hear him say my name any other way. 

He meant it was a warning. I keep moving our hands, his hand, over us. Sometimes squeezing softly, sometimes rubbing the top of his slit with my thumb. I move my hand from the back of his neck and grab his chin in between my thumb and fingers, pinching, and force him to keep looking at me. 

Smalls ‘ahs’ breathed into my face. Ah. Ah. Ah. Eyebrows drawn together, tightly wound. 

“Cum for me Sora.” 

At that he cries out, his back arching toward me, free hand roughly pulling my hair. Hot liquid spurts up onto me, onto him, as I still pump his convulsing hand up and down. His face is so delectable when he cums. Eyes closed; mouth parted. The strained keening sound he makes. 

I keep holding his face, stroking us together until I too release, bucking hard into his hand, jabbing into his stomach. I squeeze too hard on his chin, in a way that must hurt, but he locks eyes with me his face carrying a wholly new expression. 

After I’m spent we kiss gently. He doesn’t run from me after. He pulls himself flush against me, our softening members sliding against one another. 

When I look down I see his chest covered in our mutual mess. I bring his hand away from our cocks and up to my mouth. I lick it clean, wanting to taste every part of him. I worship that hand. Sora twitches and grinds against me involuntarily when I suck each of his fingers, his head buried in my shoulder—face partially obstructed with silver hair. 

I slip my shirt off and clean up the mess with it. Sora blinks long and slow. He’s tired. Totally relaxed. I kiss his jawline in a silent apology for how aggressively I held him.

“Was that okay?” I ask, as I lay us down, wrapping my arms around him to press him firmly against me. 

He nods mutely into my bare chest. I have to untangle him from me to get up, he makes a small noise of displeasure when he realizes I’m not just rearranging us. 

“It’s not fair you’re the only one naked.” I tease, and he lets me get up. I remove my cum stained boxers and turn off the light before I rejoin him, eager to have him back in my arms. He takes his place against me, threading his legs through mine, our arms around one another, his soft cock at my hip. 

Peace nestles against me and instantly I fall asleep. 

~.~

Tough On Myself – King Princess


	7. The Unexpected Guest

The Unexpected Guest – 

I wake up to daylight. I wake up alone. I’m naked however so I can’t quite convince myself that last night was some strange but perfectly tormenting dream 

I roll over and fling an arm out, trying to find him. There’s a weight at my side, a hand at my hip. When I open my eyes, I smile lazily up at him. He’s wearing one of the silk black robes provided by the hotel, its not tied very well and the front gapes open, Sora is brazen with his nakedness. 

Propping myself up on an elbow I draw him down to kiss me. Nothing to wanting just to feel him. To make it all real again. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

I put a hand in his robe running a thumb over one of his nipples, he grabs my hand but does not pull me away from him. “Riku!” A gasp. With my other hand I pull the string barley holding his robe closed and unwrap him, to reveal all of him. He hisses against the cold. “Roxas and Axel are meeting us in, like, thirty minutes.” 

“That’s for brunch.” I say loosely around the skin of his neck where I had begun tasting him. 

“Its almost eleven.” 

“Fuck.” I breathe moving away from him. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a twinge more then worry in his tone. 

I roll out of the covers standing half-hard before him. His eyes roam freely, his face in the same shade of red I’d grown accustom to. His dick twitches at the sight of me and he closes his robe, embarrassed.

“Come here.” 

He complies, crawling across to my side of the bed. I kiss him deeply. I can’t seem to get enough. 

He pushes back on my chest. “Don’t distract me. What’s wrong?” 

I take his hands and kiss them. “I meant to get more work done after you went to sleep. Its not a big deal. I was hoping to only paint later but…” I say noticing his fallen expression. “I needed more sleep then I thought.” Over ten hours. I kiss him again, putting my strong arms around his strong body, leaning all of his weight into me. “Please get dressed, you look to appetizing in that robe.” 

Sora makes a small sound of disbelief. “Me? You’re naked!” We laugh, and kiss some more. 

Regretfully, I move away from him. I hop in the shower and quickly rinse off. I need to wash my hair, but with how long it is I don’t have enough time to let it dry. I pleat it down into one long braid to try and mask how dirty it is. 

I come out washed, teeth brushed, and dressed. I feel terribly cased in clothing. The freedom of nakedness especially with Sora had been liberating. He’s also dressed, same light-colored jeans, yellow long sleeve shirt, red coat. I’d seen all of him, I wanted all of him, all the time. 

Sora’s face is sullen. 

“Are you ready?” I ask, trying to cheer him up. Trying to be okay, trying to act normal. 

Sora looks up at me, debate in his eyes. “They would understand if you wanted to stay behind. They know how busy you are.” 

“You’d have to carry my stuff back.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

I should say no that’s fine. That I’ll do what I can later, but the itch to get into my studio is already so fervent I fear I’ll shirk my other responsibilities and miss an assignment. A thing I’ve never done. Not ever. It’s a conversation Id rather not have with my parents. 

I lay my forehead against his. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He says simply. 

“Tell Roxas he can have the drawing. It’s not done, though. If he wants me to finish it I can give it to him at Christmas.” 

“It’s not done?” Sora asks, an amazed pitch in his voice. “It looked so much Axel it was crazy. How long did he have to lay like that?” 

“About an hour to start but he laid there from when you left to sunset.” He pouts, knowing full well he can’t stay still that long. “We can do fifteen-minute sessions if it means that much to you.” 

He smiles broadly. I smile back. 

“Do you want me to bring you anything?” 

“No. I’ll eat those left overs.” Sora’s expression turns guilty and I laugh. “Then I’ll order room service. Now, get out of here before I take you back to bed.” 

He hesitates in the doorway while I pull out my laptop and various textbooks from where I had tucked them away. I watch him. His expression is strange, and I can’t place it right away. I don’t know what he’s thinking. “What is it?” I ask him. 

Sora pauses at my question and then, slowly, comes over to me and kisses me briefly. A tiny moment of affection between lovers. Not the passion of last night, but something simple. Easy. A kiss in place of goodbye, for one person to show incredible closeness. 

“Mm,” I breathe against his mouth, running my hands down the back of his arms. “Our gummi leaves at four.” 

“Okay,” he pecks me again. 

“I will take you back to bed,” I growl, “if you don’t leave right now.” I mean it, by gods I mean it. I expect him to scurry out of the room, to rush out, but he doesn’t. He looks at me for a long moment, and then sighs before drawing back and heading out. 

I have to masturbate to clear my head of him. Then I set to work. 

I’m almost done with my last assignment before the door opens again. I check the clock, almost three. I move to help him in with my things, he’s mainly struggling because he’s also holding a to-go bag and a coffee cup. 

“I told you not to get me anything.”

“Did you eat?” He asks pointedly, and as if on cue my stomach grumbles. “I knew you wouldn’t.” 

I lean down to kiss him in the same way he kissed me goodbye. Hello. 

“Thank you.” 

While I’m eating he says. “Roxas says he wants the drawing painted. Axel says he wants it fit to go over a mantle.” 

“Demanding aren’t they?” 

“I told them they’d have to pay for that kind of work. Axel said, ‘Seeing me naked is payment enough’” We laugh together. “They missed you, said we should all do something for Halloween.” 

“I can’t. My parents are doing a masked ball benefit, I have to go. Maybe if there’s time after or they can come if they want to. I was thinking about introducing Axel to my parents anyway.”

Sora flashes with jealousy. “Why?”

I chuckle. “I think he’d make a good employee. Its obvious he has an eye for taste and a silver tongue. I think he could sell anyone, anything.” I pause. “Only if he wants to of course, he seems pretty serious about his band.” 

Sora softens at the reason. “You should ask him. That’d be really good for him. He’s a good guy. He really loves Roxas. He doesn’t get many opportunities like that because of his tattoos.” I nod, I could understand that. Everything about Axel was striking. Bright red hair, green eyes, strong distinct features demanding to be looked at; to be seen. The tattoos exaggerated that look, but it was tattoos or scars and the tattoos had been his choice. 

After I finish eating I say regretfully. “We should get going.” Back to the islands, back to real life. Would this bizarre dream end? Was this a vacation from Sora’s common sense? Would he regret me once we were home? I didn’t know. 

“Okay,” he whines, just as eager as I am to leave.

We’re at the station and aboard our ship on time. First class of course, with large comfy seats and no lay overs in other worlds. We are back on the islands within two hours. I forgot how much salt is in the air, I breathe it in, relishing the taste of home. 

I have a car waiting for us, we get in with only minimal complaint from Sora that I spend to much money. I don’t remind him that its my parents’ money. I don’t remind him it’s the only thing I’ve ever gotten from them. I don’t remind him that I’m not trying to buy him, I’m trying to get as much from them as I can. I’m trying to use them, because fuck them. 

When we pull up in front of his childhood home Sora turns to me in confusion. “I thought,” he searches for the right words. Anguish written in all of his features, in how he balls his fists, in how he furrows his brow. “I thought we were going home.” 

I take both his hands and squeeze. I breathe in deeply to steady myself. 

“If I have you in my bed tonight I don’t know if I’ll be able to…stop myself. I want you so bad. If you come over tonight I’ll take. I know I will. Even if you aren’t ready to do that with me.” I pause and breathe again, gauging his expression. “I need a night alone, but I was hoping tomorrow, after practice, you’d go on a date with me.” 

“A date?” 

“Would that be okay? That’s what people who like each other do right?” 

There’s an adorable brightness in him at the idea. “Yeah, okay.” His eyes land on my mouth and then flash to the divider between us and the driver and then to his parent’s house.

“The windows are tinted.” I tell him. “They can’t see us.” 

Sora then takes the opportunity to kiss me. I press my hands into his back, loving the feel of his heat, before making him stop, pressing instead on his shoulders to keep him from coming close to me again. Trying to quell the demons inside that demand I show him exactly what kind of man I really am. How I yearn to completely dominate him, mark my territory, make him useless for anyone else but me. I tell the voices to shut up, this is exactly why I need the night alone. 

I exit before Sora protests and pull his bags from the trunk. 

“You’re not even going to come in? What should I tell mom?” 

“That I’m busy.” 

“She’ll demand you come for dinner soon.” 

“Pick a day. I’ll make time.” 

“Fine,” he huffs. Clearly not liking this decision but not knowing how to fight it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” He echoes, blushing, seemingly forgetting everything else. 

I get in the car before my resolve crumbles. I want to kiss him goodbye, but I don’t. I tell the driver to take me home. I watch Sora go into his house, both of us a little forlorn. At least he still wants me. At least the salt in the air didn’t remind him that we’re just friends, and that whatever he feels for me is best left to dreams. 

And tomorrow I would woo him. I would kiss him again, and again, and again. Maybe touch him again. Maybe have him in my bed without the beast taking over. 

Maybe. 

When I am home I shut myself in my studio. I open up a blank sheet of large sketch paper and I remember. I commit the memory to paper. His body deliciously coiled. The hand wrapped around us together. I put it all down, excluding his face, because that expression felt to private, something just for me. I want to capture it again in person and never share it, not with anyone, not even with paper. 

I barely hear the door click open and shut, but its so far away I convince myself it’s the neighbors. Until the spare bedroom door opens a fraction. No one is allowed in my studio except, and there he is, the boy who is allowed anywhere in my life. 

His eyes fixate on my drawing and then me. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” I repeat. Shocked to see him. Its almost ten o’clock he should be well asleep. Then I remember the lewd nature of my drawing and move to cover it. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Its just for me. I promise.” I say, trying to justify why I would create something so personal. I needed it to exist. To remind myself it really happened. 

“Is that what I look like to you?” 

“In that moment, yes. Not always.” I do it without thinking, I pull out the only sketch book he has never seen and hand it to him. Hoping with this I can make him understand the fullness of what I mean when I say I’m in love with him. This is where I kept all those feelings. He opens it with shaking hands and finds many images of himself. Some laughing, some crying, some of him swimming, or playing Blitzball, many of him sleeping. Some dating back to when we were very young. Its not all I have of him, just the most condensed version. 

“I know its creepy—” 

“Its not.” He tells me. 

I kiss his ear as he continues to flip, completely transfixed. “Why are you here?”

With careful hands he puts the sketchbook down and faces me with such a determined expression I step back from him. He steps closer. “Don’t try to get away from me.” I stop. I swallow. I put both my hands on his hips firmly. 

“I warned you Sora. If you’re here I’ll want to—” 

“I know. I want to too.” 

“You don’t know what you are saying.” 

“I do too!” He says, stubbornly. 

“Do you even know what sex between two men is?” My voice is harsh, angry, frustrated. I warned him. Why didn’t he ever listen to me? 

“I’m not a child,” he exclaims. “You think Roxas isn’t very clear what he does with Axel? He tells me about it all the time. Too much honestly. I know what I’m saying.” 

“And which position would you want?” I ask, meeting his gaze. If he said top would I let him do that? The answer was of course yes. I’d have him anyway he’d have me. If only to say that I did it with him, had one night with him. Took his virginity, claimed him before anyone else could. 

Sora flushes bright red but he doesn’t lose any of that determination. “In my dreams,” I listen very intently, eager to know in what ways he desired me. “You always, uhm, take your place inside of me.” Embarrassment flooding every inflection as he voices how his dreams play out. 

“Is that what you would want? If we were to—” 

“Yes. Yes. Its what I want.” In a moment of boldness, he takes one of my hands from his hip and places it on his crotch. He’s hard. “Just the idea and I’m like this.” 

I kiss him gently. “Wait for me in the bedroom. Do not get undressed.” His eyes dilate at being commanded. He does nothing to fight me, when he’s in the doorway I add. “If you change your mind, you have to leave. I can’t—” 

“You’re so stupid.” He says, and then does as he’s told. 

Foolish maybe. I breathe. The voices aren’t as easy to quiet. Make him understand, burrow inside without help. Make him know the monster in you. I push that darkness away. I wanted him again, tomorrow, forever. To see that expression, to make him cum while I was inside of him. For that I needed patience and I didn’t know if I could find any. 

Automatically, I go into the bathroom and gather from the set of tools I’ve used in the past. Never imagining any of these things would be for him. I sort through some of the other items and decide against all of them, to scary for a first time, to much all at once. I go slow. Picking through my drawer with care. I expect the soft close of my front door. I expect to sleep alone. 

He’s there when I return, sitting on the edge of our bed. “Stay.” I command when he tries to come to me. He sits back down watching me. He’s fully dressed, he hasn’t even taken off his shoes. Obedient. I liked that. 

I lay the tools next to him. Two lubes. One to stretch him and one to relax him accompanied by a small toy. The size of it a taste of what he signed up for. I was big, he’d need a good amount of prep before we did anything. Before I took my place in side of him. Id taken the chance yesterday to look at his tight pink butthole, the memory sent a shiver up my spine. 

“Have you ever played with your hole?” I ask, trying to sound detached, clinical, but even the brief mental image of that sends heat throughout my body. My nerves threatening to overwhelm me.

“No,” he admits, sheepish.

I nod. Totally untouched. I would be the first ever. I liked that too. I kiss him deeply, and he kisses me back, I can feel his heart pounding as if it’s going to jump out of his body, but when I open my mouth he opens his. So willing. Even in my best fantasies he was never so willing. Especially not on the day after our confession. Not after months of dating did I imagine his intensity would match mine. Even though the jittery energy I could feel it, his want, like a hand pulling me underwater with him. 

My hands roam across his body freely. Feeling his tight muscled body through the fabric of his shirt. I pinch his nipples; I brush and play and see where I can get the most response. When I reach the hem of his shirt I pull it up and over his head, marveling in all the desperate marks I made yesterday. At some point while Sora’s touching me he’s pulled the elastic out of my hair and unthreaded my braid causing my hair to cascade around us. 

My mouth starts at his ear, then his neck, his collar bones. Dragging my tongue along the ridges of his body until I’m on my knees, dipping into his belly button, tasting the crease of his hips. 

With deliberate slowness I remove his shoes and his socks, feeling his calves. The nub on his ankles, his leg hair, his knees—where I pull apart his legs. His gaze his hazy as he looks down at me, propping himself up on one hand, the other threaded into my hair. 

With deft fingers I pull off his pants and boxers together. His full leaking erection springing out at me, god I was painfully hard at only the sight of him. I flick my tongue out over the dot of precum earning a whine from Sora, a twitch. He’s salty like the ocean air all around us. I push up and kiss him, loving the power I felt of him being naked and me not being naked at all. Sora’s shaking just a little, tiny spurts of nervousness leaking through but that was to be expected. 

“Lay back.” I whisper in his ear gently. “Do not close your legs.” 

I’m rewarded with a shiver of pleasure, as he lays down among the covers opening himself fully to me. 

I see his eyes wander over my chest and the smallest pout cover his features. With deliberate slowness I pull the material up over my head. He’s so red, flushed, hazy. His eyes dilate with desire.   
I squeeze the relaxer down over his hole, he full body shivers down to his toes. Then I coat my fingers in the thick substance. 

“Prop yourself up on your elbows. I want to see your face.” I tell him and he does it. I wonder for a brief moment what I look like to him as I’m kneeling before him, mouth hovering above his hard cock. To me his bare body and anticipatory face is beyond sexy. “Try and relax as much as you can, it’ll be uncomfortable at first. You’ll have to trust me, okay?” 

Sora nods locking eyes with me. 

I press the first finger inside of him, his hole clenching around me. I take his cock in my free hand to distract him from the new sensation. To his credit he does not close his legs. His face a mix of pleasure and discomfort. I move the one finger in and out of him until he’s completely relaxed, then I add a second without warning. He’s here. I won’t ask if this is okay. 

He clenches down around my fingers again. Another noise. With two fingers I brush up against his prostate. The sound he makes is incredible, and every time I push up into it the same noise, same dilation of pleasure, same blossom he wasn’t expecting. 

I add a third finger, making sure to stretch him adding more lube as I deem necessary. Sucking him enough to distract him when I know its uncomfortable, enough to keep him hard, but not to make him cum. 

Lastly, I end his prep with the toy, smaller than myself. I do not touch his dick as I swirl the blue machine in and out of him. His head falls back, and several loud noises escape him. I drive it into him as deep as it will go, loving the tight scrunching face he makes. 

Its time. Gods, was this all a dream? Was I finally losing my mind? I was going to be inside Sora. I was going to mark him forever and he was going to mark me. I would be ruined for anyone else.

I stand removing the toy from his body, he whimpers. His tight hole constricting around air, around the absence of what it got used to being there. 

“Undress me.” I tell him. He’s slow to react. “If you want me inside you, undress me.” Quickly he complies then, rolling up to his knees to unbutton my pants. He tries to do what I had done and remove my pants and boxers as one. It doesn’t work. It’s a valent effort though. I can’t help but laugh at how cute he is. Sora looks up at me with a wry smile and I kiss him deeply, reassuringly, stepping out of my jeans and boxers the rest of the way. I loved the contrast between us, his tan skin, my porcelain. I loved him. 

I move us both back so I can rest comfortably on top of him, still kissing him fervently, his hands back in my hair. I grope for a pillow and upon finding one push one of his knees to raise his ass in the air and place the pillow below him. With his ass in my face I can’t resist, I put my mouth against his hole, I lick across his taint and up over his dick before settling him in. 

“Riku!” he gasps in surprise, beat red. 

I lube myself up. Sora swallows. I take one of his hands and kiss it and with the other hand I line myself up with his hole. Last chance, I think locking eyes with him, last chance to refuse. To deny me, before I take my place inside. 

He squeezes my hand as if trying to reassure me. 

“It’ll hurt a little.” I promise. 

“Okay,” he says. 

I press. Sora spasms while I continue the decent inside of him. He was so warm, and so god damn tight. His hole kept flexing around my cock, sucking me in, the head of my dick pushing past the tight ring of muscle first, followed by the rest of my shaft. 

“Fuck Sora,” I breathe, and kiss him wildly. He can barley focus on his mouth with how full his ass must be feeling. Filled to the brim with me. I grind down into him, fully encompassed. 

“You’re so big.” He manages, just as a statement. A fact, but it drives me crazy. 

I grind down into him again. He makes a kneeing sound and a loud Ah! I pull out almost my full length and then slowly reenter him, rolling my hip’s up and into his body to hit his spot. Rhythmically fucking him. I push his knees into his chest and hook his legs around my shoulders. Sora cries out with abandon when I start to move faster. His hands in my hair again, holding on for dear life. 

He feels so good. I slam into him and hold myself deep inside so we could remember this feeling forever, of me inside him like this. Then I start again, switching my speed between slow and fast. 

I flip him over suddenly, swinging his left leg around my body, forcing him onto his stomach. I position his arms crossed under his head and arch his back, so his ass is pointing up at me. “Stay like this.” I say.

“Riku please.” He whines in return. 

“Please what?” 

“Put it back in me.” 

I lay my body flat against him and reenter him. He makes that wild loud ah. I slam inside of him, heeding his request. I place my legs in between his to keep him from closing them. 

Everything made me see stars. The scent of our bodies, the squelch of lube and skin, my balls slapping against him. 

Looping my arms under his I drive him into the mattress, grinding him down to dust. With my right hand I grab his face firmly. With my left I hold his chest in place, to push back against my cock so I can be as deep as possible with each movement. 

I nibble at his ears; I bite his shoulders. He pants. Ah! Ah! Ah! 

I am enraptured by his open panting mouth. I slide two fingers from my right hand into it. Sora sucks on them, the vibrations of his moans reverberating through me. I grunt, animalistic, feral. As I force my fingers in and out, occupying both his holes at once, matching the thrusts of my member into him. 

I wasn’t going to last much longer. No one had ever made me feel this good, but Sora had to come first. 

I wanted to see his hard dick, to see his face when he came from me fucking him. I turn him three quarters, not all the way over, his torso facing me twisting down to the side. His top leg I bend, the other I force straight. I deepen my kneeling stance to fit as much of me inside as I could. 

Pressing my mouth to his in completely desperate kisses I move. Then I wrap a hand around his dick stroking him. 

“Riku!” He moans, eyes wild. 

In the last moments he reaches out a hand and grabs a chunk of my hair, he pulls without mercy throughout his orgasm, cumming so hard a bit of semen lands on his chin. 

The waves of pleasure running though his body, the twitches, the constriction of his hole around my cock. That was it for me. I came deep inside of him, moaning his name in return. Pumping even after, wanting the remnants of my orgasm deep, deep, deep inside. Ever present. 

Sora whimpers when I leave his body. We kiss and kiss and kiss. I hold his face gently, rubbing my thumbs over his cheeks. I lay down next to him, pleasured and at peace. I had never been more content. Simply put I felt good. 

We laid together breathing heavily, holding hands. I kiss his shoulder, then his cheek, then his chin. 

“Did you feel good?” I ask, wanting to make sure even as I lick the cum off his chin. 

His eyes are still hazy with left over desire. “Yes.” He kisses me tiredly, but purposefully. Sora nestles into my side and makes a curious face, a small twitch of surprise. 

“Does it hurt?” 

He shakes his head. “No. Not exactly. Your…stuff is coming out.”

I kiss him again. Everything he said drove me crazy. I trace my pointer finger around his hole, slick with semen. He blushes but doesn’t complain. I kneed his ass a final time before getting up. I gather our tools and place them on the nightstand, and then stand. 

Sora clamps a hand around my wrist. “Don’t go.” 

I lean down and kiss him. “I’m getting a towel. I’ll be right back.” He relaxes somewhat, but whatever worry he has doesn’t dissipate until I’m back in bed with him. I clean us both off then place the towel under him. It would be terribly unsexy if I asked if he wanted to go to the bathroom. 

“Sora,” I say, after several moments of quiet. He hums at me, on the edge of sleep. “I love you.” 

Those large eyes look up at me, full of wonder. “I love you too.” He whispers. 

The returned sentiment with so much honest truth breaks me a little. The love of lovers. The more then love. The only love. I love him and he loves me too. 

~.~

My My My! – Troye Sivan


	8. The Secret Place

The Secret Place –

The heat surrounding me shifts away and is replaced by soft covers that are pulled to my chin. A tightness around my body. I want to get up, want to call the warmth back, want to beg it not to leave me, but I am stuck, paralyzed in sleep. 

The pad of a fingertip brushes over my forehead, my nose, my mouth. The whisper of touch before I am alone. 

The sound of a shower, of soft footsteps, the rustle of fabric. 

I try to shake the sleep off of me and the warmth comes back with a hand in mine, a soft voice hushing me. A kind voice telling me that I am okay, that I need to rest. The covers around me tighten until I feel swaddled like a newborn. With the warmth comes a peace that the warmth can never leave me, and I submerge down into darkness again. 

Its ten A.M. when I finally wake up completed rested. It had entirely slipped my mind that today was Monday, and that Sora had school. Guilt panged in my chest. I told him not to come—then I remembered the drift and how sweetly he had lulled me back to sleep. 

I reach for my phone then stare at our last messages—unsure. It was stupid to fret over a text when I’d now literally been inside him. 

‘Are you alright?’ I text out, regretting it as soon as I hit send. What a dumb thing to ask. I can’t even remember what class he has now; some best friend I was. 

After I spend awhile in the shower I come out to a return message. 

‘I’m okay. Did you just get up?’ 

I stare at my phone, my heart thudding, thoughts going wild. What would he think if I messaged him about last night? Would he blush scarlet in the middle of class? But every time I type the words out I erase them, knowing Sora is getting the ellipses of my indecision. My foolish emotions keeping me from an honest message. 

‘Is your body okay?’ I settle on. That was subtle enough, but he would still know. If had it done to me a couple of time and it had never been a crazy pain, more an uncomfortableness, a twinge or twitch whenever I moved or sat down. Then again, the men who’d done it to me had cared little about me. I’d made sure to prep him. I’d been very careful. 

‘I’m okay.’ He replies a second time. 

I roll my eyes at my phone. Gods. I wish he was here, wish we could talk face to face, wish we could kiss. He’d left so early I couldn’t ask him if he’d regretted what we’d done. What kind of mushy shit did couples send each other? Was I allowed to do that now? What would he do if I texted him ‘I miss you’? I have it typed out when its interrupted by an incoming text. 

‘Are you eating?’ 

I send him a picture of my cereal instead and then, ‘When do you think practice will let out?’ 

‘No practice!’ 

‘Nice.’ I send and then hesitate. Did he still want to go on a date with me? Now that we’d had sex had his dreams been sated? Did he even want to do anything like that with me again? Anxiety festered deep in my heart, doing it again was all I wanted to do. 

Sora beats me to it. ‘We can head out whenever you want to.’ Followed quickly by a second message. ‘I don’t own a suit.’ 

This makes me laugh out loud. He thought I was taking him to a black-tie dinner. I’d thought about it, but for a first date I wanted him all to myself. I didn’t want to have to share his attention with his nervousness. 

‘You do. A swimsuit.’ 

‘HA HA’ 

We text back and forth a little longer. He repeatedly asks me what to wear, not satisfied when I answer anything. When I tell him nothing he doesn’t like that either. I recommend he wears a swimsuit and otherwise whatever he wanted. Id seen Sora in everything I liked him best naked, it mattered little to me what I had to take off of him to get him there. 

Then I make the arrangements. 

Then I go to class 

Then I worry over my own outfit and settle on black swim trunks and a black tank top. Simple but it cut me in a good place along my shoulders, highlighting my muscles, showing a bit of abdomen. I tie my hair back into a low loose bun, hoping its enough. 

Then I call two cars, one for me and one for him. 

“You know I could have walked.” Is the first thing Sora says to me after getting out of the black car, closing his door. “Mom thought someone died.” 

He’s wearing his red swim trunks and a white tank, sweat glistening along his shoulders already. 

I laugh. “What’d you tell her?” 

Sora steps up to me. “That you’re a show off.” I laugh again, watching him look me up and down and then sigh, making a slight annoyed tisk. 

“What?” 

“You always look so good, it’s not fair.” 

“Not fair?” I ask incredulously. Sora was perfect. Perfect face. Perfect skin. Perfect body. He’d tried to do something with his hair, I could see the shine of oil keeping its wild nature at bay. Sora had looked in a mirror and worried about what I’d think. I love that. “Have you seen yourself?” 

Sora rolls his eyes. “But you’re all…” He flattens his hands against my chest and smooths me out to my shoulders. Then he quickly retracts his hands, beet red. 

“I think you’re perfect.” I tell him and sweep an arm out behind me, a gesture to reveal the small boat I’d had prepared. “After you.” 

“We haven’t been to the island in years, won’t it be filled with kids?” 

“I had it closed; it’ll only be us.” 

Sora rolls his eyes again. “You’re unbelievable,” and then steps past me and into the little boat. He puts his hands preemptively on the oars. I step in after him and untie us. 

We take turns rowing, like he had done the last time we came here together. The last time it’d only been us. I’d been fourteen. Kairi had been sick. 

Sometimes when I row Sora turns towards the waves, closes his eyes and lets the sea water splash on him; soaking in the sun. 

When we are about midway I pause, letting the boat be pushed by the ocean waves. I take one of his hands and kiss it. “Are you really okay?” 

Sora’s blush is back, but he nods. “I’m really okay.” 

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” 

“Id tell you. Promise.” 

I kiss the back of his hand once more and continue to row. We tie our boat off at the opposite dock and step off together. We’d spent every day here when we were younger. Now if was marked by others, drawings we hadn’t made, trees we hadn’t planted, but it still felt like ours. 

I point to the small cabana further down the beach. “Race you.” 

Sora looks up at me mischievously and then takes off, but I know that look and also spring into action, a millisecond behind him. He beats me by a fraction, breathing heavily and laughing. 

“I won!” He gloats, hands in the air. “I never used to win.” 

“You work out more.” 

“You’ve got longer legs.” He counters. 

We’re breathless and happy. I kiss him, I’d been wanting to all day. Sora throws his arms around me and kisses me back, smiling against my mouth. Even as I pull him to me, deepening our kiss. 

We take off our shoes, and I put his feet on my feet, our arms around each other and I walk him down to the small cliff over looking the water. Sora laughs the whole way, kissing me intermittently. I hoist him up, pressing his body fully into mine, mouth fully into mine, and then I throw him in. 

I almost die laughing at his shocked expression. 

When he resurfaces he yells. “So help me Riku!” Splashing me. 

I take off my shirt and dive in after him. Sora disappears under the water and then there are arms around me, pulling me under in pay back. 

We play for the whole afternoon, reliving out childish games. We splash each other with water. We race up and down the beach. We hold our breath and look at each other under the water until our eyes sting, Sora beautiful even when blurred by the incredible blue of island ocean. I always had to come up to breathe before him. 

Mostly we stay on the beach. We steal children’s toys and take turns building sand castles around each other. Sora spends some time laying on his belly in the wet sand, shirt long discarded, and lets the waves wash over him, yelling and laughing every time. 

We swap remember whens. Do you remember when we used to spar on that littler island? Do you remember when we hit coconuts out of trees, and one landed on your head? Do you remember when we tried to build that raft?

We crafted new memories built on our old ones, paying homage to what was and what was true now.

Sora seemed to always need to have hands on me. When we’re swimming he rides around on my back. When I lay out to dry he lays on my chest or starts burying me in sand. When we sit and make patterns in the sand he leans into my shoulder. He’s all over me and I love it. 

At one point I trace the path of water droplets along his skin. I relish the texture of our touch, of sand and sea as we grate against one another, making him shiver with the lightest touch. 

At sunset we sit together on the bent palm tree that faced the large expanse of ocean. We’re tangled together Sora’s head on my shoulder, leaning together in the dying light. He sighs and then whispers. “I don’t want to go back. I want to stay like this forever.” 

We kiss, sharing the sentiment. 

“Hey, lets go see the secret place.” I say, trying my best not to give anything away. 

Sora’s eyes light up. “I completely forgot. Let’s go!” 

He makes me give him a piggy back ride the whole way. The small entrance was half covered by the waterfall, and half covered in vines. When I’d make my request, I hadn’t thought about the physical work of it. I brush the foliage out of the way, Sora heading in before me. We both have to crouch to fit. 

Sora exits first stretching upright. “That used to be a lot easier.” I hear Sora gasp, and come out to his hands over his mouth. I put my arms around him from behind, gently pressing my lips to his neck. 

The designer had down her job well; the spread was beyond beautiful, and typically romantic. A place for couples. For lovers. There was a spread woven blue and grey blanket in the middle of the cave with accompanying large pillows and off to the side a large wicker basket and a bottle of uncorked wine. Along with the moonlight seeping in from the cracks along the cave walls, there were string lights hung; draped delicately down the rocks, illuminating the drawings we’d made once upon a time. The soft light changing the mood between us instantly. 

More then the scene I marveled at the drawings, not one had been drawn over. Could this place really have stayed untouched until now? 

“How did you do all this?” Sora asks his voice filled with wonder. 

“Do you like it?” I say, instead of answering. 

By way of answer, Sora turns around and kisses me, more intensely then he had all day. A desperate kiss that reminded me of last night. He curls his hands into my wet hair, squeezing some left-over water to drip down my back. I pull him towards me; hands on his hips. If I had thought to bring anything I would have had him right then. 

“Come on.” I say, untangling him from me. We sit amongst the pillows together, his hand in my hand, head against my shoulder. The blanket is thick, almost like a woven carpet, it does not betray any of the stone underneath. 

With my free hand I pick up the bottle of wine. “Opps.” I say after reading the label. “You aren’t going to like his.” 

“I might” Sora replies indignant. 

“Fine.” I pull a glass and fill it one third full with the dark red liquid. A dry red wine, expensive, and well outside Sora’s pallet. He hardly could handle beer. I riffle through the basket. Sandwiches, cheese, and some fruits. Things that wouldn’t go bad in the summer heat. I pass him the wine and a slice of cheese. 

He makes a show of swirling and sniffing it then takes a small sip, and immediately makes a yuck face. I have to bite back an ‘I told you so’ at his completely pinched expression. 

“Cheese first.” I tell him instead. 

“I don’t think I’ll like it no matter what I eat first.” He says, popping the cheese into his mouth and handing me back the glass. 

“More for me.” I say playfully, taking a swig. 

Sora kisses me, openly, tongue in my mouth. Then he licks his lips. “Maybe I was wrong.” 

I take another long drink but don’t swallow, then kiss him the same way, some of the liquid spilling between us. Sora kisses me back but I feel his face pinch. 

“No, I was right. That’s gross. Blech.” 

I laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t know there’d be wine.” 

He tucks into my shoulder. “That’s okay.” 

We demolish the food in the basket. We eat every crumb in that thing, hungrier then either of us realized. We talk about what we should get on the way home after spilling a decadent chocolate bar. This Sora surprised me by enjoying. 

“I don’t want pizza again.” I tell him but Sora’s gaze is far away, focused on one of the drawings behind me. I turn. “Which one are you looking at?” 

Sora stands and walks towards the wall. “This is really unfair.” He tells me once I’m at his side.

We used to draw in here when we were kinds and by we, I mean me. I used to spend all day chiseling out patterns in the rocks. I made a ton of mistakes and learned how to work those mistakes into the thing I was creating. 

The drawings are ours. Mine—a paupu fruit. His—a star with what looked like, maybe, a leaf, maybe, a triangle. 

“I wish I could take his home.” He tells me, tracing the outline of my drawing. 

“How come?” I ask, noticing the soft, loving tone. 

“I remember when you made it. We we’re, like, ten, and you said something like ‘This is the only way I can share a paupu with you.’ That really stuck with me. So, I tried to share one with you too.” 

I stare at him. There was a legend, acted out only by old traditional couples at weddings. To share a paupu fruit was to interlock your destiny with another for as long as you lived. The bent tree was said to have been the first planted, here at the dawn of this world, and that it bore the paupu fruit only at true loves request. The tree had never produced any fruit, and certainly none star shaped. When I was small I had believed it was true. 

“I don’t remember.” I tell him honestly. 

“It was a long time ago.” 

I trace the outline of his star. “I would, you know, share one with you.” 

Sora shrugs. “You are my destiny. Paupu or no paupu.” Sora says it like its obvious, a thing that is true. He says it like its not a bit of crafted poetry. Like it wasn’t a thing that made my heart sing. A thing that made me want to weep. 

I place my hands on his cheeks and kiss him, holding him to me. “I want you so bad.” I whisper. 

“Okay,” Sora whispers back, hands on my chest, stepping a fraction closer to me. I could already feel an erection poking through his shorts, was it really that easy? 

“We can’t.” I say, biting his lower lip. 

Sora whines. “Why not?” 

“I didn’t bring any lube or anything.” 

“Maybe when we get home?” 

I pull back from him, searching his face. “You want to do it again so soon? You’d let me do it again?” 

A blush deepens along his cheeks. “You act like you’re the only one who had a good time. Aren’t teenage boys supposed to be sex crazed or whatever?” 

“I guess but—” 

“Riku.” He breathes out a small, annoyed breath. “I can’t believe you’re making me say this out loud. What we did, I liked it. A lot. I want to do it again.” He meets my eyes. “I don’t think you understand how good it felt.” 

I kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. Thank the Gods. I lead him back over to the spread and lay him back amongst the pillows. 

“You said—wont it hurt?” Sora asks, concerned but not unwilling.

I kiss down his body, giving extra attention to the ridges of his muscles—perfectly wonderfully male. Until I reach his swim trunks, they’re stiff with sea water. I slide them off, I trace over where they marked his skin with red folds and sand. His erection an encouraging sight. 

“Why am I always the only one naked?” Sora asks, sitting up come to pull on my swim trunks. He’d grown bold since he had more of a handle on how everything made him feel, but not enough to get me undressed. When I wrap a hand around his cock it paralyzes him, his breath suddenly heavy at my shoulder, his fingers gripped at my hips. I sit him back further on the pillow, giving his hips some lift. 

I swallow his cock before he has the chance to grow bold again, if my swim suit was off, to rub myself against him after what he’d confessed to me—I would go crazy. 

Sora tastes like the ocean. There’s sand in my mouth but I don’t care. He looks down at me in shock before his eyes roll up in his head while saying my name. I push the head of his member to the back of my throat and swallow, constricting around the tip. I am encouraged by a moan and a twitch. All I want to do is make him feel good, to keep him on the edge of an orgasm forever. 

Sora puts a hand at the nape of my neck and threads his fingers into my hair, pulling me off of him. I open my mouth, leaving a trail of spit leading from my tongue to his cock. I don’t mind him taking some control when I am in the position, laid out between his legs. I don’t mind the pain when he tightens his grip, not even a little bit. I love that he’s obsessed with my hair. 

He runs a thumb over my bottom lip, stretching it down. “You’re really good at that.” 

I bite his inner thigh; he makes a small sound of surprise but not displeasure and loosens his hold. My mouth is back around him right away, Sora twitches and cums, his semen shooting to the back of my throat, as his cock grows and explodes in my mouth. I suck down and then back up, wanting every drop he had to give me. He continues to twitch under my touch. 

“That was fast.” I smirk up at him, feeling pleased. 

Sora swallows. “Shut up.” 

I kiss his ears, and chin, and cheeks. I roll onto my back and pull him to my side. 

“What about you?” He mumbles, bright red. 

“I’m good.” I tell him. And I was good. I was hard, but Sora was naked in the moonlight. He let me touch him freely, no restrictions after last night. He’d cum with only the heat of my mouth and hardly anything else. That was hot. So yeah, I was hard, but I was also good. 

Sora pouts seemingly dissatisfied with that answer. He trails a hand down my chest, snaking his fingers up and under the lip of my swim suit, curling his hand around my cock sheepishly. Sora kept his eyes down the whole time, watching himself do this to me. Tentatively mimicking what I had done to us in the hotel. Testing. Trying. 

I pull one of his legs over my body, applying pressure to his knee, and feel a new erection at my hip. He was going to be the death of me. 

“Keep doing that,” I tell him breathlessly. “Just like that.” 

I put two fingers in my mouth and snake my pinned arm down around him. His ass pointed into the air as he almost laid flat on top of my chest. Sora squeezes me a little roughly when I insert my middle and ring finger into him one after the other, pushing deep into his hole, fingering him gently. I loved the suck of his asshole. 

Sora tried to match me, my thrusts into him is when he’d move his hand. It felt amazing. “I’m going to fuck you tonight.” I promise, around where I kiss his shoulder and chin and cheeks. 

Sora pauses to shiver, his hole constricting around my fingers. “I want you inside. I want more.” He breathes huskily, honestly. I press my fingers as far as they will go. His words so pure and delicious I was to eat them up. Savor them. Keep them forever. 

With a few more strokes I cum, bucking up into him. The tip of my penis thrusting through his curled hand, shuttering while I moan loudly in his ear. Sora brings the semen up to his mouth and licks a bit off of one of his fingers, immediately making a face. 

I take his hand and kiss it. “Why are you so sexy?” I ask, and then I whisper. “Show me how you touch yourself.” I reach the hand that wasn’t inside him to lift up a bit of cheek and give me better access to his spot. 

Sora wraps his hand around himself, watching me watch him use my cum as lube, it slickening and shining on his cock as his played with himself. I finger him through a second orgasm, his hole closing around my fingers, greedy for more. 

We lay together satisfied; Sora having put his trunks back on. 

“Sora?” He hums. “What happens in your dreams?” I ask, he sits up fully to look down at me. 

“In my dreams you’re always very gentle with me. Its like when you check if I’ve broken something.” Well, shit. “But in real life, I like it when you’re a little mean to me. Does that make me weird?” 

“Not any weirder than me. I like being a little mean to you.” I trace the bite mark on his inner thigh. 

“Yeah, that wasn’t nice.” Sora agrees, not chiding me but thoughtful, and then he kisses me. “Let’s go home.” 

“I thought you wanted to stay forever?” I tease him. 

“Okay, I would, but at home…we can…” 

“I’m kidding. Let’s go home.” 

I row back. Sora on my lap the whole time, head on my shoulder, our shirts thrown to the back of the boat. Sora puts his hands on mine forcing me to stop. The boat drifts through the reflected starlight, the full moon illuminated behind us, allowing me to see him perfectly. 

Sora kisses me deeply, arms around me, hands in my hair. 

“I really, really love you.” He whispers. 

I press my face into his shoulder, holding him tightly, and I cry. The emotion takes over me so quickly I’m not able to force it away. I shutter and weep. Sora only brushes my hair to the other side and buries his face in my neck, his breath tickling my skin. 

When the emotion is spent, I kiss him back. 

“Did I make you sad?” He asks, a worried tilt in his tone. 

“No,” I take both his hands. “I am the happiest I haver ever been.” He kisses both my eyes sweetly, before wrapping himself completely around me; arms and legs. Our hearts thudding, answering the call of the other. 

I really, really love him too. 

~.~ 

I don’t know how to tell you this – Faith Ling


	9. The Marriage Proposal

The Marriage Proposal 

Sora and I step into the apartment together. I’m nervous, which is funny, I hadn’t been nervous yesterday, I had been in control. I was very slowly losing control when he was near me. I had cried, that was embarrassing. Yet, Sora had still come with me. He was looking at me in that new way, that awed way, as if seeing spectacular. 

Sora’s gaze a touch, feeling its way all over me. 

I burn with it. Burn from the light of a renewable fire. Burnt from the kindling Sora provided—I was a pyre and Sora the embers laid under me. How was it possible to love him more then I already had? And yet, I did. The love I had for him now had grown, changed, this love made me feel warm and full. 

There is sand everywhere in my apartment, always more of it when I sweep or vacuum, but I did everything I could to keep it out of my bed. Sora and I were both covered. 

I pull him close to me, lips at his ear. “How about a shower?” 

“Yes. Please.” 

My bathroom is fairly large, all gray color scheme, with a separate tub and a rectangular glass walled shower. I turn on the tap while Sora gathers pajamas and towels. 

I’m in the process of detangling my hair when Sora re-joins me. 

“Swim suit off,” he tells me, kissing my shoulder. 

I step out of my suit, thankful to be free from the stiff fabric. I watch Sora step out of his. He takes both of them and heads out of the bathroom. I peer out after him. He steps onto the balcony, butt naked, and lays them over the side to dry. Although it’s quite dark there’s still a heavy blush to his cheeks when he comes back in, sliding the glass door shut behind him. 

We take turns standing under the falling water. I go first—washing my hair, and while letting the conditioner sit, Sora takes his turn—washing all the sand from his body. 

“Okay,” Sora turns after rinsing the soap from his hair. “Close your eyes.” 

I furrow my brow. “Why?” 

“I have to wash, you know, everywhere.” 

I laugh. “I’m not going to close my eyes.” 

“Please?” 

I shake my head, half smiling. “Turn back around and show me.” Sora blushes harder with a short, sharp intake of breath and a hand on my chest. 

Sora swallows and turns around, squeezing body wash into his hand. First he starts with his chest and pits, hands sliding all over his tanned, smooth skin. Then he went lower washing his cock and balls and inner thighs. Lastly, his ass. Sora rubs both his cheeks, white foam gathering and then rinsing away. Then he dipped into his crack and down along his taint quickly. 

I am rock hard. 

I lift up one of his cheeks and trace his hole with my thumb. 

Sora arches back against me, the back of his head crashing into my shoulder a small surprised ah escaping him. He twists while keeping his butt facing me, throwing an arm around me to kiss me fiercely. Wet, open mouth kisses. I reciprocate fully, our tongues meeting between each kiss. 

“You can’t put it in, can you?” 

I full body shiver. I didn’t want to have to run to the bedroom and I didn’t want to wait until we were done showering. Then my eyes land on the coconut oil I sometimes used for a hair mask. 

I spin him to the back of the shower and place both is hands against the slick tiles. I hold myself against him, my chest at is shoulder blades as I rub my cock in between his freshly cleaned ass cheeks. I nibble at his ear lobes gently, Sora gasps, I thrust up against his hole without entering, holding him tight against my cock. I take the chance to look down at him—hard as hard could be. 

“Look how turned on you are,” I coo at him, watching him leak pre-cum. “Who knew you were such a slut?” I tell him while twisting his face around to kiss me. 

Sora nods into my face. “For you.” 

“Sir.” I reprimand him, kneading his cheeks roughly into fistfuls of flesh. 

Sora shivers but repeats me. “Sir.” 

“Don’t move.” I whisper. Sora whines, pressing his thick ass against me wiggling. “Don’t. move.” I tell him firmly, then I step away. “If you move I wont fuck you.” Sora goes still, almost statuesk. 

The view of him, back arched, face up against the tiles, hands unmoving was very sexy. “Such a good boy.” I tease him. I watch him swallow and shake slightly. 

I wash the conditioner from my hair slowly, taking my time. Sora does not move, not a muscle, his toned body holding its shape perfectly. I unscrew the top of the coconut oil and slick my thumb with it until it was well coated. I place the jar on the ledge towards the back, just within reach. 

I insert my thumb into him without a word, he moans loudly. I wrap my other hand around his throat, not constricting or pulling, only as a weight, a reminder. My hand able to feel the sounds reverberating out of him. 

I love being surrounded by him, my cock jealous of my thumb, which I beat in and out of him. Sucked by the tight reddening ring of muscle.

Removing my thumb, I slick myself in the oil and rub the excess from my thumb around his hole. He whines and wiggles towards me. The giggle of his cheeks overwhelmingly tantalizing. I place my member in between his cheeks but not inside. I rest, using both my hands to pull his hips tight against me. 

Sora lifts and lowers himself, grinding against me. 

“You want it, don’t you, Sora?” I whisper, a dark husk to my tone. 

“Yes sir, please, I want it.” 

Its my turn to shiver.

I lift up both his cheeks to view his hole in its entirety, knowing full well I should prepare him more, and press myself inside. Sora gasps and moans as his body stretches around my throbbing member. 

Being with him life this felt so good. Being so connected. So in synch. Learning what he liked was what I liked. It drove me to the brink of madness and parked, teetering over the edge. 

I brush my long hair over my shoulder and his, a soft brush over his bare skin. I expect him to move one of his hands to pull it, to grab hold, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move. Keeping his hands exactly where I pressed them into the tiles and commanded them to stay. 

“Now what do you want?” I ask, forcing myself still, thumbs pressed into his lower back, angling him towards me in a way that had to be slightly painful. 

Sora turns his head, locking eyes with me. “Kiss me.” 

I oblige, pulling his face from the tiles and then returning him to his place. 

“I want you to,” Sora swallows, pressing his hips back even further against me, “fuck me.” The word fuck gets stuck in his throat. F-fuck. And it unhinged me. I pull my cock out of him, almost to the tip, and slam my whole length into him roughly. 

My left arm I wrap around him and hold him against me, shoulder blades to chest. Not that I need to. Sora is using his placed hands to push back and meet me with every thrust. 

I did not care that the water at my back had gone cold. I was on fire. I fucked him. I fucked him hard, flicking my hips up into him. I drive him down on me. I am an animal. 

Sora’s perfect hands stay put even as I try to make him falter. I make sure to hit his spot without fail, each ah that escaped him louder then the last. Each keening sound. Each yes.

Until he said my name and seized up around me. I keep my pace as he roiled under me, twitching and shaking, cumming hands free. Blossoming with a whole new experience. I pull him back against me once more to watch his cum splatter and then drip down to be washed away. Finally, his hands going lax to reach around and touch me, one hand curling in my hair. 

I slow, tap, tap, taping inside him, before I start to pull out. Sora bucks back against me, nose pressed against my chin. 

“Use me,” he whispers, shuttering. 

Where had he learned that from? 

Hoisting him up I turn us around and press him into the oncoming stream of water. I manage to turn him, pressing his back instead of his front into the tiles Sora wraps his legs around my waist, gravity keep me fully encased. 

Reaching out, I turn the dial so the shower head can spit out hot water. Impatiently, Sora places one hand on the side support bar and wraps one around the shower head, he pulls himself up and lets his body fall against mine. 

For all my talk I am powerless. I can only take it as he fucks himself against me. 

It sends me over the edge, his effort to make me feel good. I orgasm deep, deep, deep inside of him. He holds me as I cry out for him and then Sora kisses me fiercely, pressing his body down on me a few more times. 

I kiss his chin, his cheeks, his shoulders. Intoxicated by him. My hands pressed, holding his thighs, my cocks still inside. 

“What did you use?” He asks. 

“Coconut oil.” 

Sora’s arms grip tighter around me, possessively. “Why do you just have all this stuff lying around?” 

I laugh, finding his jealousy endearing. “I use it for my hair…normally.” 

“Oh.” Sora blushes. 

Regretfully I pull out of him, he shivers again slightly. As I put him down his knees buckle under his weight. Sora’s eyes widen in shock, I catch him easily. 

“Okay, arms around me.” He complies. “Sorry I think I overdid it.” Sora shakes his head mutely as I wash our bodies down a second time. I stop the water, pick him up, and step out of the shower. I lay a towel on the sink and set him down, Sora unable to stop himself from wincing. 

“Sorry.” I say again, not really feeling sorry at all. 

“Stop that.” 

I dry him off, slowly brushing a towel over every inch of him. Then dry myself quickly without thinking. 

Sora stares at me, I can see a thought running around in him. I’m combing out my hair when it comes to the surface.   
“Riku?” I hum at him. “How many people have you slept with?” 

I meet his gaze and then actively avoid it. We never talked about sex. I avoided the topic to not have to hear about Sora and Kairi, now I guessed he avoided it to not have to tell me he couldn’t get hard for her. I dress and help him dress. 

I carry him to the couch and then go back and retrieve the hairdryer and a brush. 

Sora turns to me, him on the couch and me standing behind it. “Riku, I really want to know.” 

I sigh, bending over the back of the cushions to press my lips to his forehead. “I love you. If I had known, if I had even thought…” I trail off. Our first time together would have been awkward and bumbling. Both of us nervous. The sex itself might have even been bad. That’s how it should have been, then we would have learned together. 

Sora takes one of my hands. “I know. I was with Kairi. I won’t be mad.” 

I brush my fingers through his wet hair. “Seven,” I tell him. “Twelve if you count blow jobs.” 

Sora’s face turns up into a jealous pinch. “Oh,” he says small. “How many men?” 

“Sora,” I say exasperatedly, he only squeezes my hands. No lies. No secrets. I had to tell him. “All of them. I am gay, you know.” Why that was hard to say, especially after everything we’d done together, I didn’t know. Maybe because I intentionally hid it from him, by way of never seeming interested in anyone, something I didn’t think he’d know until I found a partner to replace him. 

This time the emotion on his face is hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

I breathe out slowly. I plug in and turn on the hair dryer, using this action as a distraction. I comb through his hair, making sure its wild nature is completely dry. When I am done I sit down next to him, having nothing else to hide in. 

Sora expects an answer, I can feel it. He places a cheek on my shoulder, both legs draped over my knee. I massage his lower back with one hand. 

“I didn’t want you to know.” I say finally. “People still use gay like a curse word, and I didn’t want you to be weirded out. I didn’t want you to avoid touching me or hanging out with me because you might get the gay.” 

Sora didn’t like that; I could feel his dislike like a wave radiating off of him. That and something else, and uncomfortableness, an in between feeling I couldn’t place. Sora’s quiet for a long time. 

“Can I dry your hair too?” Sora says finally, twisting one of the wet strands around his fingers. 

“Sure,” I say, relieved he’s changing the subject. “Let me get my laptop.” 

Sora nods. I return with my laptop, and some work I had to finish. I throw a pillow on the ground and ask. “Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” 

Sheepishly, he asks for some water and some snacks—I could have guessed, remembering that we still haven’t really eaten. When I’m in the kitchen I come across my convertible ice pack and throw it in the microwave. I return to him with his requests, then wrap him in the (now hot) pack. He adjusts it slightly and then thanks me. 

I sit down in front of him, his knees at my shoulders. I start one of my new assignments, opening from study material in a separate window. 

Sora starts the hair dryer, the whir acting almost as white noise. First, he brushes through he ends of my hair, working his way up until the bristles run along my scalp. Then he replaces the brush with his fingers, making me useless. I become unable to focus on anything but his touch. When my hair is dry, he switches off the machine, but keeps running his hands through my hair. Playing, brushing, sweeping it to one side and then the other. Sora spreads it over his laps and combs it through. I could barley keep my eyes open, eventually I give up and lean into his thigh. 

Sora falls asleep against the back of the couch, and I only know because of his deep, rhythmic breaths. That and that his hands went still, tangled in my hair. 

I take him to bed and set up at my desk. I lose myself in working. Sora wakes minutes before his alarm goes off. He turns to find me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Morning,” he says, sitting up. 

“Morning,” I repeat, smiling softly. “How are you feeling?” 

He wiggles cutely. “Okay.” 

“Will you be okay at practice?” 

“We’ll see.” I open my mouth. “If you say sorry again I’ll punch you. I’ll probably be fine tonight and want to do it again.” 

I laugh, joining him on the bed. He greets me with a kiss. “Too bad, I won’t be home until late.” 

“Your long day,” he sighs. 

“Date night,” I say. 

“Not anymore.” 

“I also have to check in.” 

“Want me to come?” Sora always offers, even though I’ve always said no. 

Once a month I had to check in with my parents. They had eyes in the college, they talked to my professors directly. I wish they were physically distant as well as emotionally distant, but no dice, they care very much about what I do and how it makes them look. 

“No, thanks though.” 

Sora pouts as if a thought just occurred to him. “I’ll be asleep when you come home.” He snuggles into my shoulder. 

I yawn. “Mhm.” I put my nose in his hair and breathe deeply. “You should probably stay home tonight. I need to paint.” It wasn’t weird to me that Sora had two homes, that we could both say home and mean two separate places. 

“More pervy drawings?” Sora teases me. 

“Maybe.” I tell him honestly, thinking about the one set up currently in my studio. 

Sora squeezes me tightly around the middle. “Can I…blow up that air mattress in there?” 

I’m in love with the idea of having him with me, my greatest muse, asleep while I painted. “Id really like that. I’ll even get you a real bed.” If I ordered it now, it would come by the weekend. When I reach for my phone he pulls it from my hands. 

“Later,” he tells me. “Lay down.” 

I do as he asks, suddenly wishing I had come to bed sooner. 

“Under the covers,” he chides. I lift up and push under them. Sora pulls them up to my chin and presses them all around me. The sensation is familiar. I’ve never been awake for it before. Not only yesterday morning, but all this year, maybe longer. 

“Have you always tucked me in?” 

Sora smiles softly, “No. Last year we had sort of the same sleep schedule, and we only slept together on the weekends.” He smooths me out, running his hands down the blanks, flattening out any wrinkles, making me tingle all over. 

“You’re too good to me.” 

Sora shrugs. “I love you.” He says, his voice tiny. “I wish I had known I was in love with you sooner.” 

“We have the rest of our lives.” I tell him gently, knowing I’m about to fall asleep. 

“You’re right.” He agrees, that look back, the amazed, spectacular look. It warms me so fully my eyelids grow to heavy to open and I drift off. 

~.~ 

My parents house is more museum then house. The entrance opens up into the formal living room; white marble everywhere. The shelves lined with different gifts and trophies my parents have gathered over the years. A few pieces of modern art, standing cold in the corners. Sleek white furniture that acted more for decoration then use. 

‘Don’t touch!’ Was something I heard often as a child. ‘Don’t touch!’ eventually was paired with. ‘Be still!’ ‘Be quiet!’ ‘Don’t touch!’ All my commands, until I too blended into the scenery, the decoration son. 

In his home, Sora takes his shirts off and throws them on the floor. Id copied his example exactly once. ‘Don’t throw your shirts on the floor!’ 

A house of rules. A house of glass. 

Being here reminded me of everything I hated about myself. I straighten my shoulders and step inside. My mother greets me by squeezing my arm, my father with a handshake. 

We sit together in the informal living room. Less awards. Less decorations. This room was instead lined with black bookcases, filled with many, many thick and ancient books. There was only a T.V. in my bedroom, and it was only there because I bought it myself. 

My parents sit on the couch opposite from me. My mother made tea, the fine china clinks and clatters in the silence. 

“You’ve been doing well.” My father starts, his voice practiced as if reading off a prompt. 

Not a question. “Yes, sir.” I answer anyway. 

“Your still life professor speaks especially highly of you.” My mother. No warmth to her tone. No hint of pride. This was a fact, something to add to the scale. Two sides measuring my worth. Praise; good. Straight A’s; good. Perfect attendance; good. 

“You were late to your art history class.” 

Bad. 

“Once.” 

“And you went over your budget this month.” 

Bad. 

“I’ll be more careful.” I promise, between the hotel and closing the island I’d known I was spending a lot. 

“If you need more money…” My mother starts. 

“I don’t. I was careless. I’ll make up for it this month.” I say abruptly. Whenever I asked to raise my budget it meant more responsibility with their events. It meant a favor. I didn’t have time for favors. Midterms were upon me and all I wanted to do was sleep with Sora. 

“How have you been?” My mother—a glimmer of care that has to be only my imagination. 

“What?” I ask, caught off guard. 

“How are you doing?” She repeats gently. My fathers phone rings, he excuses himself to take the call. 

“I’m okay.” I say firmly. 

“We we’re concerned when you wanted to take sixty hours in your first semester.” 

“I told you I could handle it.” 

“Yes.” There’s an odd look about her, as if she’s seeing through me. Seeing something she wants to critique but is calculating the best way to jab at me. Best way to infiltrate my defenses. 

My father comes back into the room, muttering something about come client and some deadline, interrupting whatever my mother was about to say to me.

It was time. I swallow. “There is something I need to tell you.” Both eyes are on my in full force. 

“What is it darling?” My mother. 

“Sora and I have started dating.” I blurt out before I can lose my nerve. 

“I thought he was seeing that Kairi girl.” My father. 

“They broke up.” We’re all quiet. “I plan to marry him one day. I plan to share the Genova name with him. I figured I should let you know.” 

“Is your relationship public?” My mother, all business. 

“Not yet.” I answer, waiting to be disowned. Or at least be told no. You can’t share the Genova name with a boy. Don’t say another word. End of discussion. I wait for their disappointment, and then my parents share a look only parents can share. They nod to one another and then turn back to me. 

“He’ll be a very successful Blitzball player.” My father. Not a question, a calculation. 

“One day,” I answer. 

They nod at each other again. “Invite him to dinner. We have a lot to talk about if he’s going to be our son-in-law one day.” My mother, a hint of amusement in her tone. 

“You aren’t mad?” I ask, my voice brazen with emotion. I recalibrate and sit up a little straighter. 

“Honestly, son, do you think we’re blind?” My father. 

“You loved him the moment you met him.” My mother. 

“It was only a matter of time.” 

A weight lifts off of me. One I didn’t even know I’d been carrying. When my mother hugs me politely goodbye, I hug her back. I squeeze. I really hug her, and she really hugs me back—a small pat on my cheek before our goodbyes. 

When I get home I head to my studio. The sight of Sora on his blow-up mattress almost enough to break me. ‘Only a matter of time’. ‘Son-in-law’. Id meant what I said about marrying him, about sharing my last name with him, and the power it would grant him in life. Id known Id need their permission for that but for them to give it so freely…Id expected them to tell me to hush, that we didn’t speak of such things, that if we were going to be in a relationship to keep it quiet. To brush us, and the life I wanted to build with him, under the rug. 

They’d been ashamed of me my whole life. Ashamed of my goals. My dreams. My actions. All Id expected was more of the same, more shame. Not a ‘we know’. ‘Invite him to dinner’. ‘Son-in-law’. 

If it wasn’t Sora I wouldn’t have told them. I would have run away and eloped. 

If it wasn’t Sora I didn’t know If I even wanted to get married. 

But it was Sora. There wasn’t anyone else for me. The real delusion Id had was believing Id ever find anyone to replace him. That I would ever be able to love anyone else the way love the boy who had my heart the moment I met him. 

I sit down at my easel. Overwhelmed. 

I dip my brush in sky blue. 

I paint. 

~.~ 

How Long Will I Love You – Ellie Goulding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone whos been leaving comments and kudos! I really appreciate it, and it really inspires to me keep up with timely updates. Hope you like the story so far! Love you all!


	10. The Debt

The Debt 

My life changed so much without changing much at all over the next couple weeks. Maybe it was because I felt changed. Free to be myself when Sora was near me. I could kiss him whenever, take his hand whenever, grab his ass whenever. 

Things between us felt familiar and completely new. We watched movies and made out through half of them. We did daily yoga, but every program ended with me pinning Sora to his mat. When I painted late into the night Sora would lay in the day bed, often falling asleep there—him in the corner of my vision as a renewable source of inspiration. Then I’d take him to bed, our bed. 

We had full penetrative sex four, if not five, times a week. I’d been inside him over every inch of this apartment. That was one of the completely new things—the nights where Sora would come home from practice and jump me, non-game weekends we’d spend fucking from dawn till dusk. At night we laid together naked, no longer a need for clothing. 

I loved him and he knew I loved him, and he loved me too. 

“I wish you could come,” I whisper into his hair after we had finished helping each other get ready, even though we were attending two separate Halloween events. My parents benefit and Sora’s parents were hosting a party—which both Sora and Roxas had been asked to attend, something about babysitters. 

The costume I chose was stereotypical but classic, vampire of the night. Full suit, high collar, fangs and a lace mask. It’s simple and fits my cold features well. 

Sora was outfitted in a shredded white T-shirt and equally destroyed jeans, both highlighting his toned body. He’s topped with very prominent fluffy dog ears, and fangs. 

“I’d rather you come with me.” He whines, pressing his face into my neck. 

“Yeah, me too.” Sora’s parents’ parties were celebrations in true form. His family able to create an atmosphere that would make a real-life vampire feel welcome with how much warmth and love they pumped into that house. 

I trace his fluffy ears. “I like those on you.” 

“Yeah?” He says, looking up at me mischievously. 

I hum, nibbling his human ear. “You’d make a very cute puppy.” 

Sora bites me, playfully growling. “I am a dangerous and wild werewolf.” 

“Bad puppy!” I tell him steadily. 

He blushes, swallowing thickly. “How much time do we have?” 

I bend to kiss him and it’s in that exact moment there’s a knock at the door. Figures. Sora jumps away from me as if burned by my touch, pushing me slightly backwards. I furrow my brow at his caught expression—a jab of unexpected pain at the idea of him not wanting to be found with me. 

But that was stupid. We touched all the time. We had years and years of touching. Anyone who knew us wouldn’t bat an eye at our embrace, and if they did, so what? Everyone already knew I was in love with him. Didn’t everyone important know he was in love with me too?

I study Sora’s blushing face, probably only embarrassed, he’d wanted a quickie after all. 

Most likely, its only Axel at the door—Axel and maybe Roxas. They had to know but being caught in the act by family was embarrassing, I could understand that. Its not that they didn’t know, Sora told Roxas everything to the point it was boarder line gross. Yet, it still makes me feel weird that he would react so strongly, flinging me to the opposite side of the room while he fled, it seemed unnecessary.

I get the door, Sora close behind patting his red cheeks. 

“Hey Axel!” I greet him enthusiastically. 

I’d invited him to the benefit and so, without the twins, we were heading out together. When Id first told him about my parents he’d called them assholes. When I asked him if he’d be willing to meet with them, interview with them, and learn their trade—ultimately work for them he’d said no. Fuck no. Absolutely not. And I’d dropped it, thinking I’d offended him with my offer. 

I hadn’t been trying to step on his toes. I genuinely believed there wasn’t a market Axel wouldn’t be able to sway. He was a hustler, a person who made things happen, could talk his way into and out of practically anything. My parents paid handsomely for people like that. 

But he’d said no, and I wasn’t about to bug him about it. 

A few days ago he’d called me out of nowhere, asking me how much munny he’d get. What kind of job, hours—everything. I could only give him estimates, saying I didn’t know exactly. I’d never paid that much attention to salary, but my answers had been enough to convince him, he’d told me to ‘consider it a date’. 

So I set it up. My parents had been hesitant of course. They’d monitor him at the party and then decide if they would interview him, or if they would consider him my plus one and leave it at that. It was a test, to see if he could speak with the elite, how he interacted with them in this social setting, see if he was the chameleon I proclaimed him to be. I hadn’t told Axel this party was a test. I think he knew that already anyway; Axel was far from stupid. 

Axel had gone all out for his costume as a full renaissance man. His mask an extravagant flame that twisted up and around the right side of his face, starting with black flames and ending in bright red. His jacket was beaded in nearly the same way with more variations of yellow and orange, ending in tights and healed shoes. Somehow, he kept every bit of his masculinity, probably due to the cut of his shoulders and height, but I felt severely inferior standing next to him. Like the charcoal burnt out to keep the flame glowing bright. 

I wolf whistled and he twirled for me. 

“Where’s Roxas?” Sora asks, still slightly red. 

“I dropped him off,” Axel smirks. “You change your mind? ‘Cause we could jail break Roxas.” 

“No,” Sora says indignantly. “We promised. I’ll see you later?” Sora says to me. 

“See you later.” I tell him and move to squeeze his hand, but he shifts away from me, picking up his pack from the floor. When I try again he slips past Axel waving at us both before hurrying off. 

“Shall we go?” Axel asks extending his elbow. 

“I called a car it should be here pretty soon.” I say, abnormally slowly, stuck in the moment where Sora avoided my hand.   
“Like a ride share?” 

“No. We have a couple of drivers on retainer.” 

“You really weren’t kidding about the beyond rich thing.” Axel swallows. “Can I come in?” 

“Shit. Yeah, of course, make yourself at home.” And I wave him in, shaking myself. It didn’t mean anything, Sora was forgetful, he probably just didn’t notice. 

Axel whistles when he comes in, eyeing my modern décor. “This is nice.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Like really nice. Bigger than ours. I’d love to move us into a two bedroom.” Us, automatic us. An us he didn’t have to explain. Us—Axel and Roxas. 

“There’s some really nice townhomes in downtown twilight town.” 

Axel blanches. “Yeah but the price tag. Roxas’ struggle career is only starting, and I bartend, and even if your parents take me on part time I doubt that’ll be within my budget.” 

I shrug. “I recommended you for two jobs, but they’re both full time.” Axel nods at me, in a go-on fashion. “An event coordinator or negotiator. The second one is what I think you’d be best at; I think you could open my parents up to a while new market. I was told if they bring you in it’ll be on commission. They’re return is usually at least five times the initial investment. So even if you only get five to ten percent and the total return is ten million munny that’s….” 

“Woah, wait, wait, wait.” Axel suddenly looked breathless. 

“You wouldn’t get it all at once of course, you’d have to have multiple clients, so it’d probably end up being two to three million munny a year. You’ll have to train under Saix and he’s a total stick in the mud. If you choose event coordinator instead you’ll train under Aqua. She’s been looking for a partner for years, but no one’s been up to her standards. That’s a flat rate job, but you could do more than my parent’s events and make about the same.” I glance up at him wondering why he hasn’t interrupted me or said anything. He white as a ghost. Pale beyond the grave. 

“You’re talking like I already have the job.” He says finally. 

“I think you do.” 

“I’m not educated at all you know.” He tells me, the first glimmer of doubt I’ve ever seen in him. “I didn’t get my GED until I was nineteen. I don’t know any business stuff. I can talk to people, sure, but not if I have no idea what I’m talking about.” 

I shrug again. “Its all about who you know. The rest you’ll learn. I’m not saying it’ll be easy; it’ll be really hard actually. My parents will want you to go to school part time, probably. But I think you got some serious potential.” 

“You know, not even Roxas believes in my this much.” 

A small sound of disbelief escapes me as I roll my eyes. “That’s bull. For one. But listen okay. I don’t talk to people. I don’t tell them things. I don’t trust them. We’ve hung out, what, five times total and I consider you a close friend. That’s not nothing. The reason I’m pushing is because you got me talking. When I asked you about the tattoos any other person would have told me to fuck off. If you had asked me about Sora without warning its what I would have done. You’re good at that. Allowing people in so they’ll allow you in. You have a thing that people can’t be taught.” 

“Aw. You like me.” 

“I’m regretting it more and more every second.” My phone buzzes. “Time to go.” 

Together we step into the black car and are driven directly into downtown. We pull up in front of the large ballroom made almost entirely of glass, all of the window panels unlatched and open, exiting to many patios with many bars and food stands, others reserved exclusively for the blind auction. The inside was a dancefloor ringed with tables and a stage directly in the middle. The back opened, unsurprisingly, to the ocean. 

All the people were dressed in regal, demure masks and had typical island fashion. Many women were mermaids, many men pirates, but all the costumes were simple—composed of a sprinkle of body glitter or a simple black hat. Axel was going to turn many heads tonight with his all red ensemble. With how his eyes followed every entering patron I figured he’d noticed this too. 

I exit before him and hold open the door, he doesn’t follow. 

“I can’t do this,” he tells me. “I’ll tell the driver to take me back to the Harts. I’m sorry.” 

I kneel. “Axel. Literally no one in there is physically capable of looking down on you so don’t make yourself small for them. If they try, stand taller, show them what a mistake that is.” A couple horns honk at our parked car, slowing the line of traffic. 

Axel breathes in and then out, his green eyes suddenly fierce. “Let’s crash this bitch.” 

I laugh. “Fuck yeah.” 

Then he finally exits the car, holding out his elbow to me. I take it, slightly exhilarated that he didn’t give two shits about who could be watching. 

“Shall we?” Axel says smoothly, all traces of his impending panic attack gone. 

“Lets.” 

Axel does great. Of course he does. I knew he would. People are drawn to him, quite literally like moths to a flame. Axel is the only red thing in the whole room. The only burst of color. He talks to absolutely everyone, he asks them their names and ages and occupations in such a natural way no one feels the need to get offended. Axel tells jokes that makes people laugh, people that I’ve never seen even smile. They treat him like a curiosity and in turn he draws them in close and turns then into an old friend. When people ask him to dance, he dances. When people tell him good news, he toasts them. When they share their ideas or new business ventures, their dreams, their lives he listens. 

I expect him to abandon me as soon as he finds his footing, but he doesn’t, at least not without my express permission. To dance with those that asked and then to seek out Aqua and separately Saix. 

Aqua who had dressed as a fairy, with large wings, she weirdly fit with Axels exaggerated frame. They put their heads together, their blue and red so close for a moment I thought I saw purple. They pointed and discussed the current decoration, music, and food. Axel making wild hand moments, talking enthusiastically, and Aqua nodding thoughtfully.

Saix had not dressed up at all. He wore a suit and a plain black mask at my parent’s request, his long blue hair the only bit of color on him. Id never seen him have any expression on his face before tonight, even if what he gave Axel was more half smirk then real smile. Still, Axel had cracked his everyday mask in minutes. Saix clapped Axel on the shoulder as you would a good friend after many, may long moments of talking. 

After each encounter Axels eyes seemed a little brighter. 

When he wasn’t talking to people or fully making his mark on the benefit, he was dancing with me. When a pop song came on he drew me out, away from the circle of people and we danced. Twirling each other under our arms, the robot, and other dance moves that I moved awkwardly through—Axel, of course, executing them perfectly. 

Id never had much fun at these things. Sora was often to self-conscious to dance with me. The people here having no real-world things to talk to a teenager about. They always asked me politely about art school but then shooed me off like a child and excluded me from their adult conversations as if I weren’t old enough to understand them.

Axel made it fun. 

People looked at us, and Axel didn’t care so I didn’t care. No wonder Roxas loved him so viciously, no wonder Roxas seemed so happy. They were a perfect fit. 

I admired him. I could learn a lot from him, even just in the art of being myself, even when I had doubts or insecurities.

After the silent auction is finished my parents give an excellent speech about the impending water crises, and what tools the island could use to turn sea water into drinkable water without ruining our oceans or letting industry take over our piece of paradise. It was wildly fascinating for Axel, and down right boring to me. 

The third time he steps away from me is when my parents invite him out to one of the patios, the other guests making their exits relieving them from dutiful host. Leaving me to make small talk and find comfort and companionship in my phone.   
Axel finds me in half an hour and pulls me outside. 

“They’re going to pay for me to go to school.” Axel exclaims amazed and bewildered. “I’m going to apprentice with Saix starting Monday—they’re flying me to Hollow Bastian.” Axels eyes are big. “I can’t believe this. I even showed them my tattoos.” 

“Told you.” I say, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re special, the way you talk to people you can’t replicate that.” I pause. “You’re an investment, they’ll expect a lot of return.” 

Axel smirks at me. “You can’t change your mind now.” 

I roll my eyes. “I’m just saying.” 

“I know, but no ones ever given me this kind of chance before, I will never be able to repay you.” 

“Well, you don’t have to so…” 

“I’m not kidding Riku. If you need anything, ever, I owe you. Big time. If I don’t fuck this up, I can take care of Roxas for life.” 

“You’re such a sap.” 

“Hey,” he says pushing me playfully. “You built your whole like around someone you aren’t even dating. Do I have to ask again, when are you going to get on that?”

I feel my smile go cold and stiff. He doesn’t know. And if he doesn’t know then Roxas doesn’t know. And if Roxas doesn’t know then Sora’s parents for sure don’t know. And if they don’t know it’s because Sora hasn’t told them. 

“I’m working on it.” I tell him. Repeat questions, repeat answers. 

Axel looks at me for a long moment. “Did you at least get laid recently?” 

“What?” 

“You seem, I don’t know, less stiff, less uptight.” 

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically and then sigh. “Yeah I got laid.” That was harmless enough. I very seriously considered telling him. I got on that. I’ve been on that for the better part of a month, but how could I? Then Roxas would know and Sora had kept us secret.   
It hurt me. Hurt me in the roots of myself. Hurt me in a way I hadn’t seen coming. 

Axel shakes his head at me. “I can’t picture you with anyone but Sora, that’s real weird.” 

I shrug. “Maybe Sora isn’t gay.” I tell him, thinking about how last night he begged me for cock, how I’d fucked him to orgasm; twice. 

Axel weighs that. “Maybe not. I had real hangs ups about dating Roxas at first. I tried to keep us just friends, but obviously that didn’t work out. Maybe he’s just not ready yet.” 

“Really?” I ask, seriously thrown off. “You didn’t want to date Roxas right away?” 

“Ah. Didn’t say that. I totally did, but he’s seventeen and as mature as he is I had a big over eighteen rule. But he’s Roxas…He’s…”   
“Meant for you.” I finish for him. “Soulmates.” 

“I never used to believe in all that crap either. I’m just saying you can’t dent it forever. You can’t pretend to be just friends when you feel so strongly. It doesn’t work.” Axel says so genuinely I kind of want to throw up. I know these things; I’d come to these conclusions by myself. I didn’t need him hammering in nails that were already in their place. 

“Can you drop it?” I spit out a but too hardly. I can feel the angry bubble rising in my throat, ready to burst. I didn’t want to lie to him, he was one of the people I was most excited about telling. But the boy I loved hadn’t told them. It was no longer my lie, but ours…but I really didn’t want to lie. I wanted to spill everything, how it had happened that weekend, how great we were together, how incredible the sex was. I wanted him to high-five me and congratulate me on getting the balls to finally do it. I wasn’t ashamed, far from it. 

“Yeah man, sorry, I didn’t mean—” he trails off, putting a hand on my shoulder. “If its not Sora, I know plenty of people you could meet. You should come out with me sometime.” 

“Okay.” I say, to placate him. “Sounds like fun.” 

~.~

When I get home I’m exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. I shed my costume right as I walk through the door, with enough training from my parents to pick up the pieces and lay them over the back of the couch, but I seriously don’t have the energy for anything else. 

Axel kept telling me about people he thought I would be interested in. Getting me ‘over’ Sora seemed like his vendetta to repay me for bringing him to the party. 

I didn’t need him in my debt, that hadn’t been why I brought him. It gave me a headache to think about how many excuses I was going to have to come up with to blow him off. 

I fall into bed, only to hit a body. Sora. I roll off of him, mortified. 

“Sorry,” I say, panicked. “I didn’t know you were home.” 

“S’okay.” He tells me, curling into my chest automatically. I put my hands in his hair and breathe him in, sand and sun, like home. 

I want to ask him. I want to badly. Did you tell Roxas? Did you want to wait until you were in person again? And if he didn’t, why won’t you tell Roxas? Are we even dating? We went on dates, but people went on dates without dating. We had sex, but people also had sex without dating. We say I love you…that one was tougher to swallow. Did people say I really, really love you without dating? We’re we some weird friends with benefits, but also emotions? 

And whatever we were, why not tell Roxas?

I hold his hands. I kiss him. I touch his body, grabbing his ass and keeping my hands there. All to prove I can, that I still can, even if it wasn’t whenever, even if it was only in this apartment. In private. 

He’s mine here, and that was enough. 

Wasn’t it? 

~.~ 

Secret love song part II – Little Mix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I was thinking about making a companion story to this one from Axels POV about how he and Roxas got together and their lives in Twilight Town and their perspectives on the impending drama. I'm going to write it anyway, but I'm curious if its something anyone would be interested in. 
> 
> I SO appreciate all the comments and Kudos! Thank you so much!


	11. The Getaway

The Getaway 

Sora practically crashes through the front door, raging through the apartment until he finds me in the kitchen making a sandwich. He puts his arms around me tightly. I through an arm around him, holding him to my side. 

“Hey, you hungry?” I ask, greeting him with a casual kiss. 

Sora whines. “Riku, I’m so sorry. I have a game this weekend.” He mumbles into my shoulder. 

“Okay. That’s fine, Sora. Where is it?” 

“Riku! Its your birthday.” Sora tell me exasperatedly, squeezing my middle. 

“Oh really?” It’d been almost two weeks since Halloween so that was about right. November thirteenth. Id be nineteen. I’m technically a year and a half older then Sora, his birthday is in February when he’d finally be eighteen. I couldn’t wait for him to complain about how unfair it was that we would never be the same age. 

Sora nuzzles into me. “We’ll have to celebrate the weekend after.” 

“I’m okay.” I tell him, starting another sandwich. 

“Don’t be stupid.” He tells me and I laugh. “It’s your birthday, we’re going to do something.” 

I shake my head smiling. “If you say so. Where’s your game?” 

“Radiant Gardens.” 

“That’s far.” 

“I know.” He whines. “We’re spending the night. The games Saturday. 

“Can I still come?” 

Sora’s eyes get wide. “Yes. I want you to. Id hate if you weren’t there. Don’t make any arrangements though. You’ll just stay with me okay?” 

“Wont you be sharing the room?” 

“Probably, with Tidus or someone.” 

I frown. I hate that. That seems like a very miserable birthday, not being able to touch him casually at night sounded like torture. Not knowing what was okay or what he’d jump away from. Id stopped going to his practices all together, his avoidance when I tried to squeeze his hands too much for my heart to take. I’d stopped trying to touch him at all in public, it hurt too much to keep trying. 

“Wont Tidus mind?” 

“If he does we’ll kick him out.” 

I roll my eyes, chuckling softly. “Okay.” 

Sora is insistent that he has to make it up to me. On Friday he tells me he already got our tickets and that he’s going to ride with me instead of with the team, a first. When I ask him about it he keeps saying ‘It’s your birthday. I want to be with you. You’re going to be nineteen.’ 

He repeatedly asks me what I want, but the thing about having money is that bought gifts meant very little to me. I could use new paint brushes, but if I was desperate for them Id buy them. What I really wanted was for him to tell his parents about us, or at least Roxas. Axel hadn’t messaged me bugging me about hanging out with him, but he hadn’t messaged me to congratulate me either. 

We’d spoken some since Halloween. Axel had started his classes. He’d gotten fitted for a suit. He’d been shadowing Saix. All over the last two weeks, my parents worked fast. Investing into him. Testing him. He’d kept me updated but said nothing about Sora. 

I was a secret. 

For my birthday I wanted Axel to congratulate me. I wanted to reach out and squeeze Sora’s hands like I used to before, when it was a simple show of affection and not a sign of our actual relationship. 

I wanted him to call me his boyfriend. 

To get him to stop asking I tell him art supplies and trips to the secret place over winter break. 

We talk about his upcoming game some but not as much as I expect. Sora keeps shying away from the topic when usually, if I can get him started on Blitzball he would go on and on. New training. A new move he’d mastered. How well the team was doing. How the Radiant Gardens team was. 

Sora kept wanting to talk about me and for once I couldn’t wait to go meet all the Blitzball bros. 

When we step out of the Port I am staggered by how bright everything is. Bright with color, with its namesake- radiant gardens literally everywhere. Vibrant, multicolored flowers, trees with varied leaves, shrubs with thick baubles of fruit. All the buildings in the heart of downtown were modeled after green houses, with great big geometric frosted glass. 

A world that was perpetually spring, like the islands were always summer. 

Even in our short walk to hail a cab there were so many birds Id never seen, so many insects, so many vibrantly dressed people in fashions that were bizarre and wonderful. 

Sora waved over our cab and once inside repeated an address that made the driver give us a funny look. I am enraptured by the outside, taking as many photos as I can along the way, angry that my pastels are packed away and I’m kept from being a total nuisance in this guys backseat. 

Sora only watches me wistfully, not saying anything, he can tell how much I immediately love this world. 

I hope to the Gods the hotel has a balcony where I can excuse myself while the team did their bro-ing out—that was never my scene. 

Our cab stops in front of a small cottage about thirty minutes outside of the city. The flowers here large and blooming, tucking themselves tight against all edges of the house. Its tiny and charming and wonderful. It’s the best thing I have ever seen. 

I turn to Sora, eyes wide. 

“Surprise!” He says, cracking into a wide goofy grin. 

My heart swells like a balloon—expanding. Pushing against the inside of my skin. 

I exit the cab, take our bags from the trunk and when the driver is gone I kiss Sora, pressing him to me firmly. I want to kiss him all over. I want to bury him in the tall grass and pollenate him with my seed. How had I not seen through his poorly hidden guise? 

“I can’t believe you. Breaking our pact like this.” I tell him. He’d done nothing but lie to me for days. 

“Hush. It was for a good cause. Happy Birthday.” Sora whispers, hugging me highly. Then says, “Stay! Don’t come in until I tell you to.” 

Sora picks up both our bags and disappears inside. 

I can’t decide if I want to fuck Sora or paint more, both desires so potent and passionate I’m trying to devise a way to do both at the same time. 

My phone buzzes. ‘Come find me.’ 

The inside of the cottage is more spacious then I would have guessed, even if its three rooms. Open kitchen and living room, with a small dining area. Wood flooring with peachy colored walls. I open a few doors. I find a linen closet and a bathroom and then finally, the bedroom where I discover a spacious clean bed with our bags but no Sora. 

‘Cold.’ He messages me. 

Lastly I step out through the sliding glass doors to find an expanse of green. So much tall green grass I barely notice the inlaid stone path. 

I follow it. 

‘Warmer.’ 

The path leads through a short length of tall grass and opens to a gorgeous field. Tall trees circling a pond—a lone rugged, muddy little thing that I love at first sight. 

And Sora, beautiful, wonderful Sora, sitting on a stool in front of an easel—set up with paints and pastels, brushes, rags and extra canvases. 

“How?” I ask him breathlessly, taking his hands in mine, threading our fingers together.

“Do you like it?” 

“I love it.” I tell him. I’ve never been on this end of the trip experience, not having paid for anything and instead being paid for. Was this why he didn’t like it all the time? This pang of guilt. The unsaid question of how much did this cost? The worry that it’s too much, and for what, my birthday? Id have another one next year. 

Sora’s phone pings right as I move to kiss him. “Oh! The grocery delivery. I’ll be right back.” Sora trades me spots, sitting me at the easel. I kiss the back of his hands before letting him loose.

My focus is on priming the canvas, but I’m not totally relaxed until Sora is back within eyesight. With him he brings out several snacks—fresh fruit, chips, and small sandwiches. He juggles all this and two water glasses, iced with lemon. Sora sets out a camping chair on a thick blanket, both under the shade of the tall grass. Where he sits, with his console and phone, content to let the hours go by. 

I paint. Losing myself in broad thick strokes of color, moving myself closer to the ugly little pond I loved so. It held minnows and frogs and life buzzing at every end. The reeds that bent low, shadowing the water, were just as gorgeous to me as any flower. I focus in on the details, blocking color in small strokes, mixing shades until they were just right, then layering them over one another. 

I’m basically covered in paint by the time Sora tells me he’s going to go start dinner. 

“You, cook?” I ask incredulously. 

Sora blushes. “Its frozen. I have to put it in the oven.” 

I smooth the skin of his cheek with my thumb, coloring him in rainbow, then I laugh. “Sorry.” And I wipe him clean. 

Sora kisses me, deeply. I start to stand but he pushes down on my shoulders, holding me in place. I forget how strong he is. “Stay. I have to get dinner started.” 

“Id rather have you.” 

“We have to eat.” He reminds me, blushing. “We have all tomorrow too.” 

“And Sunday?” 

Sora shakes his head. “We’re going out on the town Sunday.” 

I never want to leave this place. I don’t want to go home. I start to wish we did have one last summer before college so I could buy this cabin and live here in bliss for three months instead of three days. Maybe install a pool so Sora could spend his days with his first love. Make this our summer home and return to it every year. It was nice, playing house, acting out a piece of our future in the present. Or at least, what I hoped was our future. 

I love the cool weather, love the variety of colors. Love the tall oak trees and muddy ponds. The overabundance of green grass. I love how it smells—sweet but not overpowering, dewy and fresh. Radiant Gardens was a breath of fresh air. 

Its dark before I remember myself again, taking my canvas and heading inside. 

All the lights are on, but no Sora. I figure he must be changing or in the bathroom or maybe even taking a nap. I wander into the kitchen, drawn by small and find a plate of chicken atop a bed of spinach and tomatoes with some sort of creamy sauce that looked beyond good. There was a lone plate sitting out, steam rising, accompanied by a fork and a pen, with a small note that read ‘use me.’ 

I click the pen. I click it several times and then put it in my pocket, unsure of what I was supposed to use it on. 

“Sora?” I call out. No answer. “This looks good. Id hate to eat alone.” No answer. 

When were alone sometime I playfully use puppy, but it was usually during or after sex. Id love to use it as a pet name. Id never be so bold to use it in public, even if everyone knew we were together. But here? Its my birthday after all.

“Puppy?” I call out, stifling a wave of nervousness. 

The small unexpected sound of a bell answers my call. 

Confused, I step into the living space and find him ruddy faced on the couch. Fully naked, except for a pair of assless underwear, a collar with a small silver bell, and those wolf ears. 

Sora is shaking slightly. I’m hard in an instant. 

“Riku,” he whines. “Unclick.” He motions with his hands. 

I come around the couch with my plate to view him more clearly. Sora also has a tail. There’s a slight vibrating sounds—a butt plug. I smirk. 

“I was going to…” He starts, embarrassed. 

“Off the couch.” I tell him. “No puppies on the furniture.” I swear I see a small smile cross his face before he has the decency to look shocked and gets down, kneeling at my feet. Sora rests his cheek on my thigh.

I run my fingers through his hair and eat, taking my time, wanting to see what would happen if he got impatient. 

In between my legs, on the ground, body fully exposed, it took all my composure not to touch him more then this. 

Sora does get impatient, but he lets me finish eating before buzzling into my thigh, his face so close to my crotch I can feel the heat of his mouth through my jeans. 

“Are you hungry? I ask, running a thumb over his lower lip. Sora nods, wide eyed and whines at me. He wiggles, wagging his ass so that tail brushes back and forth between his cheeks. “How about I give you a treat?” More wagging. 

I undo my belt and bring out my hard cock. He’s never done this to me before. I’ve never asked him to. But Sora doesn’t hesitate, he swirls his tongue around the tip, and I moan reflexively. The heat of him making the rest of my cock feel cold in comparison. Sora took his time which I was fine with, relishing the sight of my puppy enjoying his treat. 

“Good boy.” I tell him while he licks up and down the sides, the head of my penis resting on his cheek. Most of his face obscured by my cock. 

I bring the pen out and twirl it in my fingers, Sora watches me, but saying nothing. His breath slightly heavier as he continues to do things with that mouth to drive me wild. Then he wraps one hand around my base and puts his whole mouth around me, sucking slightly. 

“Good boy.” I repeat, more husk in my tone. Sora moans, bringing me to the back of his throat and then out, coating me in spit.

Click. With the addition of the vibration Sora loses his composure, gripping me tighter as he shakes. This unhinges something in him, he pulls my cock from his mouth and lowers to under my shaft, sucking roughly at one of my balls and then the other, his thumb running along my taint. 

I am paralyzed his pleasure momentarily, before I begin bucking up against him on instinct. Wanting to fuck his throat until he couldn’t speak, to coat him from both ends in cum. I barley manage to unlick the pen. 

Sora trails his tongue back up along the vein and swallows me again, pushing down until he choked, jagging some. Which I love, the spluttering from me being to big for him to handle. 

“Are you still hungry?” 

Sora whines and nods. 

I curl a fist at the nap of his neck, pulling his hair. I hold his head still and sit up. Then I thrust into him, fucking his mouth, dominating him, removing his control completely. Sora could only hold tightly onto my thighs. 

In my over eager movements I pull back a bit to far and my cock slips from Sora’s mouth, exposing his hungry hole, tongue sticking out, his lips swollen and red. He whines, putting me back in on his own, right to the back, lips at my base, with my tip submerged in his throat. I am so overwhelmed with feeling that I cum without warning, holding him down until I’ve spent all of myself into his mouth, even as he gags from it being to deep. 

Sora swallows when I pull out. 

“Up.” I tell him. 

He crawls into my lap, straddling me and I kiss him, loving the taste of myself on his lips. I give a little tug to his tail, he gasps, leaning into me. 

I lay him across my lap, ass towards me. Sora on his belly, draped over my legs. I click the pen and pull one of his cheeks to watch the toy vibrate, his hole opening and closing around it. The tail giving me a nice handle to tug, against my thigh I could feel his still hard cock throbbing. 

Sora tries to push himself up on one elbow, I rear back and slap his ass leaving a red imprint of my hand. He whimpers returning to his stomach. Then he tries again, and I hit his other cheek, not hard enough to cause him real harm but to sting, to offset his pleasure and for me to watch his ass jiggle. 

“Bad puppy.” 

Sora lays flat, getting the message.

I unclick the pen, watching his hole seize around the removed sensation, while he whines and pants. 

“You don’t seem quite full.” I whisper, pressing a finger into him, hooking around the toy. I push the butt plug into his spot, turning on the vibration when I pulled it away, teasing him, and when he pressed back Id spank him, his cheeks growing redder and redder. 

Then I remove the toy slowly, Sora shivering when I hold it at his widest point, before taking it out. 

I break character and pull him up to me. “Lube?” I ask. 

“I’ll get it for you, master.” 

“Yes. Fetch.” And I sit back on the couch while I watch Sora reach into a drawer in the coffee table, a whole array of toys waiting there. He’d found the stash in my apartment it seemed. 

Sora waits for permission before getting back up on the couch, Sora presses the lube and a leash into my hands. I connect it to his collar and kiss him sweetly. “Good boy. Very good boy.” I murmur, positioning him where I want him. 

I remain in my same position and turn Sora around. I take the leash and lay it along his spine, pulling Sora’s arms back and bind them, opposite hands touching opposite elbows, taught enough that his collar pressed against his adams apple lightly. Then I coat myself and his ass in lube. 

“Sit.” I command, pointing my dick at his hole but offering no other assistance. 

Sora expertly presses himself back, connecting us, cock and ass. His cheeks bunched up against my hips when fully pressed. Sora moves up, I grab his shoulder and push him back down roughly. 

“Did I say you could move?” I whisper into his ear as Sora whines. “If you’re going to be bad, I’ll have to punish you.” 

Then I let go, holding his elbows I push him up and tell him. “Stay.” While I moved, slamming into his hole with unrelenting force. I pull his hair back, exposing his throat. My other hand holding his arms and I force him down on me, changing my thrusts into hard short bursts. I press him down again, taking all of me deep inside. 

“Whose hole is this?” I ask. 

Sora looks back at me, panting and red. 

“Whose hole is this?” I repeat, spanking him. 

Sora whines. “Yours. It’s yours.”

“Who do you belong to?” 

“You.” He cries out. “You.” 

“Say it.” I command, pulling his hair into a fist, returning to my rhythm. 

“I belong to you.” The words come out as breaths. I. Belong. To. You. 

“I own you.” I tell him. “You’re mine.” 

“Yes.” Over and over again. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” 

He’s close, even through all the abuse Id inflicted on him. It sends him over the edge when I whisper it in his ears while I fuck him, pressing his back into my chest. “This is my hole.” Then in his left ear. “Mine forever.”

Sora clamps around him, twitching, that same keening nose he always made when he came. 

I’m not long after him, thrusting my seed up into him, holding his fleshy ass against my hips, loving the fold of us together. 

I remove myself from his body, immediately un hooking his leash. Sora’s breathless, taking full deep breaths. I lay him next to me, removing his collar and ears and placing them on the table next to us. “Stay.” I tell him. Sora freezes, searching my eyes, unsure if he’s still in the role. “Relax. Just don’t move.” 

I leave and return with a wash cloth, a bowl of warm water and a small bottle of lotion. Sora hasn’t moved, not an inch. 

I wet the cloth, squeezing it until its only damp and wash him down. I start with his mouth, bruised and red from where I might have been to rough with him. Then down along his chest, over his body, sliding off those ruined briefs. Sometimes I have to work to remove where I had transferred paint form my hands to him. 

Sora grabs the fabric of my shirt. 

“Yes?” 

Sora swallows, then manages. “Its your birthday.” 

I press my lips to his forehead. It was indeed my birthday, as if that mean I was supposed to be the only one getting pampered. “Then let me take care of you. Did you eat?” 

He nods. “It was pretty good.” 

“Hm. I liked it.” 

I spread some lotion on my hands and begin to massage him gently, starting with his shoulders, down over his chest, pelvis, legs and lastly feet. I motion him to roll over, getting a new bowl of hot water and start the process over again—worshipping every part of his body, pressing my palms into him lovingly. I finish by kissing each of his toes. Kissing his fingertips. Kissing his earlobes and the space between his eyes. 

When I’m finished I wrap him in the thick blanket from the back of the couch. 

“I want to watch a movie.” He says, snapping out of his relaxed state when he notices I’m about to pick him up. 

“What’s here?” 

Sora shrugs. “Anything is fine. I don’t want to go to sleep yet.” 

“Let me change.”

“Out here?” he asks. 

“Should I bother with clothes?” 

“No,” he sighs, a flash of relief crossing his features.

I go to the kitchen and wash the remaining paint from my hands, then I pick a movie from the small selection. I undress slowly, folding my clothes into a neat pile, and I join him on the couch where he unwraps himself to wrap up both up together. Body against body. Sitting across my lap, leaning into my chest. 

“That wasn’t too much was it?” I ask him. 

“No.” Sora blushes. “I’m weird remember?”

I run a thumb over his lip, still flushed. Still red. “Not even here? Not too much?” 

“I like,” he swallows, “being full of you. You make this face when you lose control, I like it a lot.” 

“What about the dirty talk?” 

“Remind me,” he murmurs. 

I brush back a lock of his hair and press my lips up against his ear. “This is my hole. I own you. Mine forever.” He shivers delectably, a shiver that has nothing to do with cold. 

“Yours forever.” He repeats. “I like the dirty talk.” 

“If were going to do more like that we’ll need a safe word.

“A safe word? Can’t I just say no?” 

I tilt my head side to side. “Let me show you.” I put my hand at his throat. “Say no.” 

“No.” I tighten a fraction. 

“Again.” 

“No Riku. Don’t.” Sora whimpers, learning fast. I tighten another fraction. 

I let go of him, tucking him gently back under my chin. “Like that.” 

“I must be really weird.” He tells me shaking his head. 

“What do you think of me then.” Sora ‘no’s’ softly at me, wiggling closer. “So, if we do more like that I need a word that really means no.” 

We debate a couple and then settle on one; paupu. 

“I doubt I’ll use it.” He says. 

“Id rather have one then not have one.” I tell him, tracing the red line from his collar. 

“You can do anything to me. I can even fuck me when I’m sleeping.” 

“Sora.” I say as a warning.

“Really,” he says shyly. “Anything.” 

Except hold your hand in public or introduce myself as your boyfriend. I know he means sexually, in private, but it still hits me that he’d let me fuck his mouth until he couldn’t breath or suggest I enter him while he’s asleep but did not want to tell anyone he loved me. 

Roxas was gay. Axel was already family. Why not me too?

Unless if was for my sake. Sora knew how strict my parents were, how hard they could be on me. Maybe it was to keep me safe and had nothing to do with him being ashamed of me. It didn’t explain why he hadn’t told Roxas, but it could explain why he hadn’t told his parents. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks me, looking up at me through his lashes. 

“I told my parents about us.” I tell him, Sora freezes in place, wide eyed. 

“When?” 

“When it started.” 

Sora sits up and takes my face in his hands, searching my eyes. “Do they hate me? Are they mad? They didn’t…do anything did they?” 

I shake my head and kiss him. “No. They invited you to dinner. They might say something about son-in-law but feel free to ignore them.” I could feel myself blushing. 

Sora ticks his head to the side. “Son-in-law?”

“Well, yeah.” I swallow, my nerves treating my body like a bouncy castle. “One day, when we get married I’d want you to share my last name. Genova-Hart or Hart-Genova I don’t care.” 

“Married.” Sora repeats, far away. 

“I mean. I’m not asking. Not right now, but once you’re settled into your career and I’m getting regular buyers Id want a house, maybe something like this, and then…” I trail off. “Am I freaking you out?” 

Sora shakes slightly. “And then what?” 

“And then Id want to adopt. Or we can find a surrogate if that’s important to you. I want at least two kids.”

“You want kids.” Sora says breathlessly. “With me?” 

“Yeah. I want one just like you. I think you’ll make a great father.” I tell him gently, wondering why I’m telling him all of this, but simultaneously needing to know his thoughts. I feel the wet of his tears before I see them, his shuttering into my chest. “Hey. Hey. Hey.” I coo at him. “I’m sorry.” 

“Shut up Riku. No sorrys. I didn’t know you wanted all of that. You used to talk about how stupid marriage was.” 

I roll my eyes. “Only after you told me you wanted to marry Kairi if I remember right. If you don’t want to get married that’s fine. I like having sex but more then that I like being with you. I like kissing you hello. I like waking up with you. I like when you sleep in my studio. I want to be yours forever, if you’ll have me.” I say gently, exposing the heart of it, the core of myself. 

Sora weeps, sobbing loudly. “I want to marry you.” He exclaims finally. “I want to get married on our island. I want a paupu cake at our wedding. And I want kids. I want a big family. At least four kids and at least two dogs. You’d make such a good dad Riku, so steady and reassuring.” This all pours out of him as a jumble, and it is the most beautiful thing he’s ever said to me. 

“No more then three. One big dog or two small dogs. And I want a cat—a fat lazy thing.” 

“A big dog and a small dog.” He bargains with me. 

“There no saying no to you is there?” Sora shakes his head. “Then I want a snake.” 

“Cool.” 

“One day.” 

“One day.” He repeats. “Mine forever.” 

“Yours forever.” I promise.

Sora’s phone alarm chimes, and he smiles at me, a big, dumb, goofy grin. 

“Midnight.” He tells me excitedly. “Happy Birthday. For real.” 

I laugh and kiss him. A new marker for the happiest I have ever been. 

~.~

I Want A Dog – Hobo Johnson


	12. The Gift

The Gift 

My day starts by having sex with Sora, a shower, and then a clean canvas. I spend all day Saturday out in the little back field putting color on canvas, losing myself in brush strokes until Sora’s puts a glass of water, or a snack, or a meal in my hands, instructing me to have human moments. He lets me have sex with him in the grass—the blades tickling our bits of bare skin as we made love as Riku and Sora and not puppy and master. 

It was bliss. Every detail perfect. This was how I wanted my life always, with Sora beside me. Even if it wasn’t this house, or this view, or this remarkable every day. If I could simply be with Sora all the time like this, it would be heaven. To look up at him and catch him staring at me, then make a face at me and go back to whatever he was doing. For him to throw a leg over me and sit in my lap when he wanted attention. For us to kiss for little to no other reason then we loved each other. 

Why couldn’t every day be like this? 

When the sun goes down I pack up my canvas and head inside. 

I show Sora my paintings after dinner, explaining the details even in my more color-blocked impressionistic version of the view outside. I tell him I love the muddy little pond and want to take it home with us. 

‘We’ll need a bigger suitcase.’ He says in response, laughing. 

My days ends by having sex with Sora in the wide big bead. We make love with the windows open, under the covers, for once. Then we lay in quiet, breathless silence after Sora insists we set all possible alarms for nine A.M.. 

At a little past eleven Sora crawls on top of me, kissing me fiercely—the stamina on this boy. 

“Again?” I ask him ruefully. 

Sora pulls back, bashful despite everything we’ve already done together. “You don’t want to?” 

I move him down a bit to sit on my already hardening cock, he smirks down at me, all bashfulness gone. I sit up to kiss him, holding him close to me, or pelvis’s pressed firmly together. 

I love him so much. And he’d given me so much. I want to give him something too. 

“Sora?” He hums, threading our fingers together, kissing me slowly and sensually now. “Have you ever thought about doing me?”

He pulls back and we look at each other in the moonlight. “I mean, yeah, of course I have.” 

“You want to? Now?” 

Sora blushes. “What if I’m bad at it?” 

I laugh softly. “You won’t be.” I whisper to him reassuringly. 

Sora looks down. “You’re bigger than me.”

I move my mouth to his ear. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

He pauses. “Have you done it before?” 

I didn’t like talking about the others, I didn’t like thinking about the others. “Yes.” I tell him and at his fallen expression add. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I know how much you like cock.” I tease, grinding our hips together. 

“I want to,” he says stubbornly. 

“Okay.” I agree casually, repositioning us so I’m on my back and Sora’s above me. Nervous energy radiates from him, stuttering his kisses, making his hands shake. I smile into his mouth, feeling my own pit of nervousness. It’d been a long time since Id allowed myself to be anyone’s bottom. 

Sora grabs the lube from the bedside table a little too aggressively and it drops to the floor, rolling under the bed. I can’t help but laugh as he rolls over the side to get it, ass over head. “I got it.” He says, crawling back up. 

I push myself up on an elbow and motion him to me. “Tell why you’re so nervous,” I ask him, taking one of his hands. “You’ve done way more promiscuous things at this point.”

Sora takes my face in his hands. “I want to make you feel good like you make me feel good and I’ve never done this before. And I don’t want you to hurt, not at all.” 

I run my thumbs over the back of his hands and hold him to me. “Do you want me to finger myself?” 

Sora swallows. “No let me do it.” 

“Do you want instructions, or do you want me to be quiet?” 

Another red blush spreads across his cheeks. “I don’t know.” 

“Sora, you can’t do anything wrong. I want to feel you in every way I can feel you. And as long as it’s you, I’ll feel good, I promise.”

In response Sora takes a deep breath in and then out before kissing me lightly. I don’t fight him or tell him what to do. I step back and take a passive role, letting him so what he wants with me. Even if I have to stop myself from interjecting with small instructions. 

Instead I try to relax him with my kisses, my hands trailing delicately down his chest as he moves a couple of pillows to prop up my lower half, giving him a better vantage point. Sora sits back on his heals and, for a long moment, simply looks at me—at every part of me equally. Then he moves his hands to my knees and opens me up to him. 

I feel oddly exposed, laid bare before him. Not only naked but seen-through, seen to the heart of. To me he looks like he always does; beautiful—that expression I’ve grown accustomed to fully engulfing his features. Amazed at only the sight of me. 

I wonder what I must look like from his perspective. 

He moves his thumb right to the edge of my hole, digging slightly into my pelvis moving the fleshy part of my cheek out of the way. It tickles slightly when he brushes the short hairs there, making me shiver. Sora’s eyes suddenly back on my face. 

“Are you sure?” That pinch in his brows back. 

I motion him down with one hand and complies bending over me. I cup his face on one side pressing my mouth to his ear. “Please. Please fuck me Sora.” 

His dick twitches from where it laid across my stomach. I hear the lube click open and then his hand is back at my hole one finger pressing inside. I’d forgotten what this feels like at first, odd and uncomfortable to be entered somewhere that was normally an exit.  
“So tight.” He mumbles. I stick my tongue in his ear. 

Sora adds a second finger without warning. Involuntarily I make a small sound of surprise and then a deeper noise when he rubs up against my spot. Id forgotten that feeling too. That blossom of pleasure that spread from the inside out. Tentatively he presses again, and I moan into his ear reflexively. Feeling at odds with the person I normally was when we slept together. 

“Should I add another?” Sora asks after fingering me thoroughly with two. I nod mutely into him, knowing I’m red faced and glassy eyed. He adds the third, my muscle clamping around him tightly. 

Sora kisses me and kisses me and kisses me, getting more confident the more noise I made, the more times he hit that spot. 

“I want you inside me.” I tell him, pulling his hand out of me. I have an almost overwhelming urge after emptiness to roll him over, climb on top of him, and fuck himself against him. I breathe slow and bat the craving away. Let Sora have control, I tell myself, let him have sex with you the way he wants to. Don’t you want to see Sora find his way? And I did. Gods on high I did. 

Sora kisses me lovingly before moving away. He sits up, spreading more lube over himself and then my hole, pressing inside for good measure. He scoots close, pressing his knees under my thighs, locking eyes with me.

“Do it.” I say, before I’m able to bite back the command. 

At my words Sora pressing himself into my body, thicker than I expect. He’s patient with me when I struggle to relax, his expression so determined I can’t even tell if he feels good or not. Until he puts two fists into the mattress and sheaths himself fully inside me. Then he leans down to kiss me, since he’s a bit shorter I have to crunch for our mouths to meet properly. 

“You okay?” He whispers against my mouth. 

“Yeah. I’m okay. Sit back for a second.” He does, watching me. I position his hip to angle into me from the left. “Now press all the way.” Sora makes fists again and gently pushes until, once again, his hips are flush against my backside. A small explosion of pleasure causes me to reach out for him. “Right there.” I tell him breathlessly, unable to discern what kind of face I was making. 

Sora pulls out and rolls his hips up into me sweetly, with so much care it almost breaks me. He fucks me slowly, with grace and love, touching me everywhere. Sora sweeps my hair to one side and balls it into a fist, pushing my knees into my chest, laying out foreheads together and somehow managing never to pull.  


No one had ever treated me so kindly. No one had ever put this much effort into making me feel good. Not even me.  


All I could do was hold onto him. When he bent over me I put my arms around his shoulders. When he sat up I held his hand. When he kissed me I cupped his face, keeping him close to me.  


We were nearing close on a moment I never wanted to end. I can tell that Sora’s already fighting off an orgasm. Even as smoothly as he stopped to whisper ‘I love you’s into my ears, or brush the bangs out of my eyes. I knew it was to give himself pause, to try and calm down some.  


While moving Sora seems to make a decision. He grabs the bottle of lube, squeezes some extra into his palm and coats me. As soon as he touches me I arch into him with an ‘Ah.’ That comes out of nowhere and I have to close my eyes to regain my composure. Then Sora exits me completely.  


I look at him wildly, thinking maybe he wants to cum on my chest or my face and instead see him crawling over me. Then he presses my cock up into his body in one fluid movement, his face only slightly pinched.  


Overwhelmed with the good feeling and the sheer surprise of him flipping our roles the knot inside unravels, releasing a wave of pleasure to coat my whole body, to the top of my head and tips of my toes.  


When I’m no longer blinded by my orgasm I sit up. “You minx.” I accuse, gripping my fingers into his hips.  


Sora laughs cutely. “I wanted you to cum first.” He says softly.  


I kiss him. “I want you to cum inside me too.”  


“Riku.” He whines when I flip him over and swing a leg over him. Now this, this is something I had never done before—let someone willingly breed me, and help them do it. I sit down on him, pressing his dick back into my body, moaning from the return of pleasure after Id already orgasmed.  


“Fuck.” He exclaims, breathing heavy.  


Now I know how I must look in the moonlight, my long silver hair shimmering down the length of my body, and I smirk down at him. He gives me a big, goofy grin in return. Such a goofball. Its so cute I have to kiss him.  


Then I lean away from him, twisting my hands in the sheets behind me, swirling my hips down on him. Trying to make love to him in the same gentle way he’d done me, but I wasn’t as good at it.  


Didn’t seem to matter too much though for it doesn’t take long at all for him to say my name and buck his seed up into my body. Instinct taking over, as he thrust into me roughly at the end.  


When he’s done I roll off of him panting, he curls into my side throwing a leg over me.  


“You’re full of surprises.” He says, somewhat wistfully, settling into his usual spot on my shoulder.  


“Me? What with that stunt right at the end? And puppy? And this whole weekend?”  


Sora blushes. “I guess. And no offense, but you’re kind of a control freak. I love you to death, but I never thought you’d let me be the one. I’m learning a lot about you.”  


“Good things?” I ask, suddenly paranoid.  


“Very good things. You’re very different when I’m the one. Its like,” he searches for the right words. “No ones ever been nice to you. Everything I did surprised you. When you felt really good you looked straight at me and had to squeeze me somewhere, like you had to make sure I was really there.”  


I wanted to cry. Gods when had I become such a cry baby?  


I clear my throat, attempting to fight back against the onslaught of tears. “No one ever has been that nice to me. I’ve never been that nice to you.”  


“Not true!” He exclaims. “Maybe not during sex but all the time. You’re always that nice to me. You love me in everything you do.”  


I cry. I pull him tight to me and stop fighting.  


“I keep making you cry,” he whispers, a little teary-eyed himself.  
“It’s a lot for me.” I tell him, as he brushes away the tears when the back of his hand. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is happening. I never thought we’d be together and now to talk about getting married I…” I pause, wondering what to say next. The whole truth or only half of it?  


“Tell me.” Sora prods.  


“I don’t feel worthy of you.” I whisper honestly, it’s a whole truth. But I had more then one.  


At my words, Sora too, cries. “You’re my person.”  


I want to believe him. I want to. I convince myself that I do. That its true that he loves me as much as I love him and that this, whatever we are, isn’t his first steps to self-discovery. That he means it when we make space for where we’re going to build our future together.  


After several long moments of silence Sora says. “What are you thinking?” He’s been asking me that a lot lately.  


“I don’t want to leave. Not ever.” I tell him, not knowing how to voice the rest. I’m good at bottling. And what if how I’m feeling, what if voicing that makes him go away? It’d kill me to lose him, so I lock up my hurt, I tuck it away in the drawer where I used to hide my unsaid love for him and keep it under constant supervision. It was enough that he said he wanted what I wanted, even if it wasn’t true. It was enough.  


Sometime later we go to sleep and at nine three alarms go off blaring into the quiet house. We both groan but Sora dutifully throws away the covers.  


“Aren’t you sore?” I ask him, catching him around the middle.  


“Incredibly,” he replies, wiggling out of my grip. “Now get up.”  


Once I’m dressed I make a pot of coffee and help Sora pack. We talk idly about the weather, how it’s a different kind of perfect.  


Sora made me dress nice, black button down and fitted slacks. He’s wearing almost exactly the same but with a white button down. I’m weary for whatever else he has prepared. Ill have to start planning now for February to even try to make up for this weekend.  


There’s a car waiting for us at ten thirty, which drives us into the heart of the city. We stop in front of a theater-type building that was guarded by two bouncers. Sora heads up to them with me in tow and produces two tickets.  


I can’t breathe. I can’t blink. I’m frozen in place staring up at the promotional banners, and infographics. Ansem the Wise’s gallery. My brain frozen in one thought. Holy shit. Id first found Ansem’s work when we’d studied him in sophomore year and he’d quickly become my favorite artist. All his works sold before I ever had the chance to get my hands on a single piece. Sold in private auctions. And I didn’t want to ask my parents for help, too much pride, I wanted to manage it on my own. To have his new collection before me, in person, I couldn’t believe it.  


“Sora.”  


“Happy birthday!”  


“Is this why we’re here?”  


He nods excitedly. “One day showing, isn’t it crazy timing?”  


Crazy. How about totally remarkable. “How did you get tickets? How did you even know about it?”  


“Moms company redid his home. What?” He says at my shocked expression. “Your parents aren’t the only ones with connections.”  


“This is crazy.”  


Sora smiles at me. “Should we actually go inside?”  


Together we step through. I stand at every piece for an obnoxious amount of time. No photos allowed so instead I furiously scribble nots, marking titles, details, inspirations, everything. I try to commit every single thing to memory. The brush strokes, the way the paint almost seems folded together, laid like fabric, pinned upon the canvas.  


So many delicate textures even in on piece that was all blue. It makes me feel something, even in the way the color was applied. It felt melancholic and made me long, deeply for simplicity.  


Sora touches my elbow and I realize he’s been trying to get my attention.  


“Sorry.” I tell him. “I’m ignoring you.”  


“What? Its fine. I know how much you love him. I have to go to the bathroom.”  


“Okay.” I say. “Can I wait here?”  


He smiles up at me. “Of course. Be right back.”  


Its been more then ten minutes and I’m itching to move onto the next painting, but I’m worried that I’ll go too far off and Sora wont know where to look for me.  


Fifteen minutes. Maybe there was a line.  


Twenty.  


I ask one of the staff where the restroom is and follow their directions, hoping to find Sora caught up at the buffet. He is. I almost breathe a sigh of relief that he didn’t run into some weird, old, art pervert.  


He was, however, surround by three girls. Nodding and speaking politely with them. One of them says something and he laughs.  
I hate it. Hate the attention he gives out for free, simply for niceties sake. Don’t you know your mine? I want to tell him. But what could I do? Tell him he can’t be nice to people? No not people. He could be nice to grandmas, to teammates, to children, but not to girls. Not to pretty girls.  


“You sure are cute.” One of them says leaning into him. I watch him blush and fidget. “Are you seeing anyone?” Bold.  


“Uh.” Sora says, hesitating. “No I’m not.”  


That’s that then. Not dating. I love you. Let’s get married on day, but today we weren’t dating.  


I couldn’t see the harm in saying yes. Yes meant anything. It wasn’t an immediate omission to sleeping with your best male friend. Why couldn’t he have said yes? Unless he really didn’t consider us partners the way that I did. And his no was a real no, and not a lie.  


I can’t stay to watch them fawn over him and push their phone number on him. I return to the painting and my notes. A whole new ache to replace my old one. A pain that crept up and lingered, one that I couldn’t push or reason away. It ate at me in nibbles, in small, tiny chucks. 

Little pinpricks that started in my heart center and spread.  
How were we supposed to get married one day if we weren’t together now? And if we did what then? Would he even wear his ring in public?  


Its been a month and a half, I try to reason with myself, slow down.  


Nothing about our relationship had been slow. Why was he ashamed to be with me? Why was he ashamed of me?  


Sora returns to my side a couple of minutes later with a plate piled high with small foods.  


“What’d I miss?” He asks with a smile.  


“Not much.” I tell him, trying to act as though I was joking. I take one of the little sandwiches. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”  


We act normal, but I feel wrong.  


Even as we get our luggage, even as we head home, even as Sora takes my hand later that night and I bring it up to my mouth to kiss it.  


Even where we are alone, perfect and whole.  


I know we’ll never be like this in public.  


And it breaks my heart.  


~.~  


Starting To – Wavelength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. Thank you to everyone leaving kudos and comments on this work. And to the couple people leaving comments and kudos on some of my old works. I really apricate it, but those other two aren't going to be worked on for a long time if at all. I'm really worry. 
> 
> Also sorry this is a little later then I had planned I got caught up terraforming my island on AC.


	13. The Discovery

The Discovery 

It’s the first day of Christmas break and as is tradition I’m standing in front of Sora’s house intent to go in. Or at least I was. Until I got here and realized that Sora hadn’t invited me. I usually spent the majority of the break at the Harts house, but that was before I had my own apartment. That was before everything else too. 

Things between Sora and I are good, when we’re alone anyway. We’re a couple when we’re alone. We have sex a lot, or I should say, a lot more, since I started bottoming on days when Sora was too sore, or had a game, or had come home from a hard practice. We still go on dates. Visiting the secret place whenever we can (usually at night), even going to the Pukka Pub together—though those outings were usually more strained. It’s great, even if it feels like something is missing, but I try to ignore that most of the time. Sora is my match. 

So I stand outside, suddenly feeling out of place at the home I thought I would always belong. 

Finally. I knock. 

Sora opens the door and then stares at me with a painfully blank expression. “Hey, I was just about to head over.” 

“No need.” I say with a forced smile. “I’m here now.” 

Sora cracks a little and embarrassment peaks through, nervousness flickering in between. “But…” He starts but Mrs. Hart comes into the front room and gives me a huge bug, bigger than anyone her size should be capable of. And I hug her back, picking her up off the ground slightly. 

“There you are. Don’t scare me like that, Sora said you were too busy to come this year.” She pulls back to really look at me. “Since you haven’t been by in months I expect you to tell me absolutely everything.” Her stern finger point outweighed by her sunrise smile. 

“Yes Mam.” I say, knowing I’m lying to her. And wondering how I can edit out Sora some, he was all of my life. I should have just said, look to your left, that’s everything. 

“You didn’t have to bring those.” She scolds, taking the packages from me. Christmas gifts. I shrug and smile. “Well you’re just in time, we’re starting the cookies. You’re still the cookie decorating committee, right?”   
“Of course.” I tell her happily, following her into the house. Expecting a blonde young man and a tall redhead to greet me from the couch. “Where’s Roxas and Axel?” I ask, looking back at Sora, but only catching a glimpse of dread before he ticks his head at me like he didn’t hear what I said. 

“Roxas is on his way. Axel can’t get away from work until Christmas eve.” Mrs. Hart rolls her eyes. 

“Ah,” I say, wondering if I should apologize. That new job was my fault after all. 

“We’ve got blank baubles set out on the table, go to town.” She tells me with a last side squeeze before heading over to their small tree to add my presents to the pile. 

I sit at the dining room table, lining up the paints I want to use, thinking about what kind of pattern I want to start with and if I wanted to deal with the pain of glitter or not. Sora sits across from me, staring at me as if my presence violated some unsaid rule. As if I wasn’t allowed to be here. 

I smile at him gently and he relaxes some. “What’re you going to make this year?” He asks me. I made ornaments for the tree every year, it started as a tradition the three of us used to do but the twins soon lost interest in. It was my tradition in this house. Years of my baubles already on the tree in the living room. 

My second tradition was decorating the cookies, even as the twins chased each other around the house. Everything Mrs. Hart wanted to do I wanted to do. I still felt some of that childish pleasure when she praised me. 

“A series of paupu’s I think.” I tell him, making sure my paints were all in a line. “One for your parents. One for Roxas and Axel. And one for, you know…” Us. And I meet his pained expression with an equally pained expression of my own. That is not the face I want him to be making when I tell him I’m making him a paupu. 

But he nods. “That’ll be cool.” 

I look at the people around me. They really have no idea. That’s okay, even if it hurts me, its okay. I can deal with it until he’s ready to tell them. I only wish that we would talk about it, about them not knowing, then maybe I could understand why. I’ve tried to bring it up, over and over again, but every time the words get stuck. They get muddled with phrases that don’t make any sense, and thus were not fit to be said out loud. 

Sora’s mom seems to love me. Not only did she stick up for me that summer, but she half raised me. Had I been wrong? Did I not have as much of a foothold in this family as I thought? 

I don’t want that to be true. 

If I pretend I’m fine. I’m fine. Even if Sora sat on the other side of the table, as far away from me as he could get while still acting like everything was great and okay. That we were the way we always were. 

If we were the way we always were he’d be in the seat next to me. 

Sora prattles on nervously about Christmas plans and some about next years season, and a very tiny bit about Hollow Bastian. His mom chiming in from the kitchen every so often, and his father from further in the house. Sometimes Sora will forget his worry, but then he will suddenly remember it and I watch it consume him over and over again. 

I focus in on the bauble. Id started with our paupu, despite wanting to start with any other, but I couldn’t make myself. I break the paupu into two, painting one half on one side and the other half on the opposite side. I make sure the pieces are destined to line up, meant to be together, but aren’t. I paint them with care making their backdrop a whirring night sky. 

Its almost done with Mrs. Hart comes in close to inspect my work so far. She gives me a sympathetic grin. My unrequited love clearly known by her, what a surprise. 

“Yeah. You’re the whole cookie decorating committee for a reason. Look at how beautiful that is."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hart.” 

She swats at me. “Rinoa, Riku, for the millionth time.” 

I shake my head at her. “You know I can’t do that.” 

There’s a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe you should just call me mom then.” 

I blanch, then blush. Would She still say things like that if she knew I screwed her son on a regular basis? Of course Id never say so point blank. Id say were dating. Id say were in love. Gods, would they want Sora to stop sleeping over? Were his parents more strict then I realized? 

“Yeah,” Sora teases me. “Maybe you should call her mom.” 

I lock eyes with him. “Okay bro.” I dead pan. 

Sora twists his face up and then forces a smile, simultaneously kicking me under the table. Playfully, for the most part, but I get the message. Don’t be gross. I make a ‘you started it’ face. 

Then I notice Mrs. Hart putting on her shoes. Sora notices this too because he says. “Mom, where are you going?” 

“I’m going to go get Kairi. She should be here for this.” 

I freeze, staring at Sora’s fearful expression. Like all his nightmares were coming true. 

“Why?” He manages. “I told you, she’s—” 

“She’s your girlfriend, Hun. And I haven’t seen her in forever. Are you sure everything between you two is okay?” 

“We’re fine.” Sora grits out, his foot suddenly on mine. 

My throat closes up around the major melt down I can feel coming on. Shut-down mode activate. My loud heart beat an alarm telling me to get out, or I was going to set something loose I didn’t want out. 

Roughly, I push away from the table, unable to look at Sora, my bauble forgotten, and it shatters on the floor. The whole room jumps. 

“Shit, sorry.” I mumble, running to get a broom and a dust pan from where I know they are kept. I clean up my mess while Mrs. Hart bends to help me although I try to bat her away. “I have to go. Sora remembered something I didn’t, I actually do have a parents thing.” 

Mrs. Harts hand is immediately at my shoulder when we stand. I know she knows I’m lying. “You’ll be back for cookies?” 

“Maybe.” I tell her, and her face falls. We both know that’s a no. 

“You’re the whole committee. I won’t decorate them without you. I’ll talk to your mother if I have to.

“No. That’s okay. I’ll try to make it back.” I lie. 

“Riku, come on,” Sora whines. “Come upstairs with me for a second?” 

I shake my head. I absolutely cannot do that, then I’ll say something stupid like. ‘I want to break up.’ Or ‘Give me your apartment key.’ Or ‘Why would you rather your parents think your still dating Kairi, then to even suspect you’re really seeing me? What the fuck?’ 

“I’ll see you later.” I mumble, after putting my shoes on. Then I flee the house. 

Sora’s right behind me; barefoot. It was too hot to have bare feet out on the sidewalk. 

I turn on him. “Go back inside.” 

“Only if you come with me.” 

“Why don’t you get your girlfriend to come over?” I grit out. I watch him flinch and think ‘good’. I have never before wanted him to hurt, and I don’t, not exactly. I want him to feel a fraction of the capsized hole in my chest. I want him to feel a divot where I feel a crater. 

“I should have told them, I just—” 

“Am ashamed of me? Hey. I get it. Why wouldn’t you be? Everyone else is.” I shouldn’t be saying things like that. I shouldn’t give Sora the opportunity to agree with me. This is why I had to get out of here. 

Sora starts shaking his head. “No Riku.” He steps forward on the sidewalk, grabbing my arms. “That’s not it.” 

Such simple words but then blind me with anger. What else could it be? I step into his grip and kiss him, and it’s the worst kiss of my life as Sora fights to get away from me. That’s more like what I imagined would happen if I told him how I felt about him, what would always happen. 

“You shouldn’t have told me I could do anything to you.” I hiss. “You shouldn’t have lied to me.” 

Then I turn and I run, and I run, and I run. Not surprised when Sora does not chase me. When I barrel into my apartment I beeline to the bathroom and I throw up. Not that it helps the rolling sick in my stomach. It doesn’t clear my pounding head. It doesn’t stop the tears. 

I’m so upset I can’t sit still enough to paint. I want to slash at a canvas, tear one in half, throw it at a wall. But when I enter my studio there’s Sora’s daybed unmade, because it was his and only his and not mine. I liked it unmade, made it easier to believe he’d be right back on nights he spent at home. It used to give me peace, now I want to set the thing on fire. 

I pace around my apartment, but everywhere I go, there he is. Smiling back at me while playing some game. Raiding a ridiculous food concoction from the fridge. Standing on the balcony in only his swim trunks.   
He’s everywhere and I can’t stand it. 

A living, breathing fantasy. An acted-out role—to shed and put on depending on if he was coming or going. Mine once inside. Single once outside. Kairi’s in front of his parents. Which was real? Had Sora allowed me to have so much of him because it felt good or because he loved me? Had I really ever had him at all? Had him fully? 

Mind, body, and soul? Or just body? 

I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t sit on the couch, or stand in the kitchen, I couldn’t take off my shoes. I couldn’t even look at the bedroom door—the room where we had whispered I love you and talked out the details of our college plans and beyond. Where we’d shaped our lives around one another. 

He was my forever. 

And I? What was I? 

Less then nothing. Background noise. Decoration. Don’t touch! 

I pick up my phone and quiet Sora’s incoming call, dialing Axels number without thought. 

He picks up on the second ring. “What’s up?” Axel’s voice is casual and a little tired. He doesn’t know. So Roxas hasn’t called, Roxas was home yet. That was good, I still had time. 

“I need to call in that favor.” I could hear the desperation in my own voice, and I hate it. 

It gave Axel pause. “Yeah man. Anything you need.” 

“I need a place to stay until Christmas eve.” 

“Done.” 

“And you can’t tell anyone where I am. Not even Roxas.” 

“Shit, Riku.” He says, recalibrating. I only hope this won’t make him retract his offer. “That’s a big ask.” 

“I know.” I whisper, trying to run through the possibilities of where else I could go. Where else I could go and feel all of this out without interruption. 

Axel sighs. “I did say anything. You’ll tell me what’s going on once you get here?” 

“Probably not.” I say, already heading for the door. 

~.~ 

Vain - KIRBY


	14. The Betrayal

The Betrayal 

In at Axels front door in a blink, in a flash, almost like being black out drunk when I made the decision to cross the room I was suddenly there. I know there were steps in between. Where I bought my ticket, sat in economy, listened to a baby cry for four hours, bounced my leg, was very aware of my breathing, and had to remind myself to blink. I know these things happened, but my brain catalogued them as bullet points. Steps to get me here. 

Sora’s calls: thirty-nine. 

Sora’s texts: Fifty-two. 

Most repeated words: I’m sorry. Where are you? 

I stared at my phone, waiting for the messages to come in, reading them in my notifications so they had to read receipt. I was a ghost. I was unreachable. I was nowhere.

Nothing to anyone. 

Axel opens the door without me even knocking. “Hey.” Is how he greets me, his bright green eyes full of sympathy. 

“Did Roxas call?” 

Axel nods slowly, gauging my expression. “Sora’s in full meltdown mode.” 

I shrug lazily, letting that bounce off my defenses, fall away and shatter. Id step on the broken glass of it later but for right now I could avoid the pang. 

“You didn’t tell him did you?” 

Axel shakes his head slowly. “No.” 

I nod, and enter when Axel waves me in. “You guys moving?” I ask, noticing all the boxes, all the bare walls—all the missing, mismatched yet perfectly coordinated decorations. 

“Yeah.” He smiles softly. “I got us a house.” 

His happiness hurts me. I wish I hadn’t asked. 

I navigate my way to the couch and sit down. I blink and Axels handing me a warm cup of tea. I blink and sitting next to me, shoulder to shoulder. I blink and were two episodes into some show. I blink and its dark outside. 

Axel takes several calls, two are from Roxas. 

“I know babe. If he calls I’ll tell you. I’ll try to come a little early. Yeah. I know. I love you too.” Call one. 

“Really? Kairi’s boyfriend, still? That’s fucked.” He says eyeing me. “Why didn’t he tell us? Not talking? Okay. Yeah. Still nothing. Okay. I love you.” Call two. 

I blink and Axels put food in front of me. “Eat.” He commands. I pick up the fork he’s provided. I shovel. I chew. I swallow. I try not to vomit. 

Axel watches me the whole night. Watches. Carefully not saying anything until, I guess, he can’t keep quiet anymore. Its late. Later then I feel like it should be. 

“How long have you two been together?” 

“Personal question.” I say with a wry smile, but even the energy I expend to do it and say two tiny words exhausts me. Takes something out of me. 

Axel scoffs. “Please give me something. Why am I lying to Roxas?” 

“Because…I don’t want Sora to know where I am. I can’t see him right now. He’s my person. I know he is, but this…makes me think, maybe, I’m not his. And I need some time to get over that. So we can go back to being happy.” I whisper. Unsure if I was betraying Sora by saying any of this. But it felt good, liberating, to tell him.

“What happened?” 

I clench my jaw, chewing, and Axel sighs. 

“Do you think you’ll get any sleep?” I shake my head, and he nods, unsurprised. “Want a beer?”

“Sure. Just don’t think I’m going to tell you more about Sora.” 

Axel smirks. “Now why would I think that?” 

I resign myself to what that implies, and Axel replaces my cold cup of tea with an even colder beer, and clinks his bottle neck to mine in a mockery of a cheers. I drunk four beers before I blink and realize its morning. Somehow, Axel managed to get my shoes off, put a pillow under my head, and lay a blanket over me without me noticing. Tricky. Getting me to drink to fall asleep, but I was thankful for the rest. If only because not that day was done, and I didn’t have to live in it anymore. 

The red head is in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Eggs. Bacon. The works. Food I did know if I was going to be able to stomach. I was still nauseous, biting back bile stuck in my throat. Sora didn’t want to be with me publicly. I had no idea what to do about that, but at least I could think it without losing my mind. So that was something. 

I wish suddenly it weren’t winter break, that I had something to do. That I was busy. That I had anything else to dedicate my attention to.   
I wish I weren’t still so incredibly tired. 

I push myself up from the couch and stand in the doorway, to watch Axel move around the kitchen, giving each burner adequate attention before moving to the next. I liked cooking. I remember liking cooking, before I was too busy with schoolwork to think about anything other then schoolwork. Sora excluded. 

“Morning sleeping beauty.” Axel smiles at me. “How do you like your eggs?” 

“Over medium.” I tell him blandly. 

“I’m making scrambled.” And he winks at me. 

“Asshole.” I mutter under my breath, jokingly. And then pause. “How is he?”

Axel slows for a millisecond and then meets my gaze with an understanding look. “I think…you already know the answer to that one.” I nod, even though I’m not sure that I do. “Roxas begged me to come early so I changed my flight to tonight. Are you going to come with me?” 

I consider coming back with Axel, to have someone on the ride home, someone to keep me grounded in reality instead of spiraling in my hurt. 

I shake my head no, hating my own cowardice. I was still so mad. Mad at Sora. Mad at myself. Mad at Kairi for existing. Mad at Axel for being happy. Mad that all I had in my wheelhouse was running away. Mad. Mad. Mad. The kind of mad that made me ashamed of myself. 

Axel nods as if he expected as much. “I left the spare out for you. You can leave whenever. Roxas and I will be back the day after Christmas.” 

“Thanks.” I say, honestly relieved, eyeing the small silver key. 

“It’ll suck. My first Christmas with them and you won’t be there.” 

“I’m sure you guys will get by.” 

Axel plates our food and sits at the dining room table, and a couple bites in he locks eyes with me. “I know you don’t want him to know where you are, but can you text him and let him know you’re okay? Apparently he’s camped out at your apartment and refuses to leave.”

I sigh heavily. Another broken thing thrown in my path, another later ache. 

I pull out my phone and it lights up, as if knowing; Sora. I let it ring out, knowing my voicemail is beyond full. Then I text him. ‘Please stop calling. I’m okay. I can’t talk to you right now.’ 

Read immediately, both Axel and Is phone slight up. Axel answers his. I don’t. 

Axel puts his phone on speaker and sets it between us. “Hey babe. Any word?” I freeze making cut off motions at my throat. I didn’t want to hear this. Yet I was glued there, waiting to hear Sora’s voice. I did not want to hear this. I did want to hear him. Could I make up my mind? 

Roxas makes a strangled noise to express his frustration. “I’m going to kill him when he shows up. I’m thinking about killing Sora right now. And no, not really, anything on your end?” 

“Sorry. No. Have you tried his parents?”

Roxas almost laughs. “He would never go home.” 

“I’m saying maybe they could track his spending, figure out where he went.” 

“That’s…not a bad idea. I’m a little scared of his parents though. You work for them; can you ask them?” 

“Ask who?” I close my eyes to ward off Sora’s voice. He sounded awful. He sounded the way I felt. Drained. Disorganized. Distressed. A mutual sadness. At least there’s that I think bitterly, one thing were on the same page for. 

“His parents. But what would we even tell them?” Roxas says gently, in the way you would talk to a child. 

“They know about us. We could tell them the truth.” Sora’s voice is small. 

“They know?” Roxas’ tone suddenly harsh. “They know? And I didn’t? Gods. I wish I could run away.”

“Roxas baby. Not helping.” Axel interjects. 

I head Roxas take several deep breaths. “I got to go Sora’s comatose again. You’re coming soon right? I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” 

“Tonight. I promise.” Axel takes a big breath. “I’ll try to talk to Riku a few more times before trying his parents.” 

“If you get to him. Tell him to come home.” Roxas sighs. “Or at least tell him passive aggressive texts aren’t helpful.” 

Axel laughs softly. “I love you, baby.” He says. 

“I love you, too.” 

Axel pulls the phone back over to his side. “You told your parents?” Axel asks me. 

I crack. I can’t help it. I cry, solemnly, no sobbing. “When it started—in October.”

Axels fork hovers just before his mouth before he finishes his bite. “That’s why you didn’t want to talk about him on Halloween?” 

I nod. I need to tell someone. Maybe, it’ll help me get it all off my chest. Put the words in the right order so I can say them to Sora. “That’s when I learned that he hadn’t told Roxas.” Breathe in. Breathe out. “I didn’t understand why he didn’t tell his family. I still don’t honestly. Is it me? Am I not good enough?

“After Halloween he stopped letting me touch him in public. No hugs. So touching hands. Normal stuff—stuff we’d been doing all our lives, suddenly it was all very off limits. But when we were alone Sora’s all over me, we had so much sex it was actually crazy. It was so easy when we were alone, I don’t understand why it was so hard when other people were around. Everyone. I mean everyone. Already knows I’m in love with him. When I told my parents, you know what they said? We know.” 

“You don’t hide it well.” 

I nod. “I know. But then I had to act like everything was the same between us. When at home we would talk about getting married, but he couldn’t even tell his parents he broke up with Kairi. I don’t think he wants to be with me the same way I want to be with him. I think, he thinks, he has to be the straight twin.”

Axel winces. “You think that’s true?” 

I shrug. “Unless he so ashamed of being with me specifically. That’s its not because I’m a boy but because I’m me…” Then I see Axels phone go dark. Had it been lit up the whole time? “Did Roxas hear…?” 

Axels looks caught. “I told him you were here last night. I don’t keep secrets from Roxas. And we thought if we could just get you to talk, to tell Sora how to actually feel then you guys could really talk it out. Be okay. You know?” 

Sora was listening. “Fuck you.” Is all I can manage. 

Leaving the call open, on speaker, so everything I said was said out loud—like a confessional that broadcast to the congregation. I wasn’t ready to talk to Sora. That was the whole reason I was here. That was the whole reason I was telling Axel. Why had I trusted him? Oh yeah, because he made me believe that he cared about me. He was good at that. It was the reason I introduced him to my parents. The best at making people believe he was really listening to them. 

I stand. I have nowhere to go, but I can’t stay here.

“Riku I—” Axel starts but stops at my cutting look. 

“I thought you were my friend.” I hiss at him. “Using me just like everyone else. That really sucks.” 

“I am your friend. You can still stay. I’ll leave right now.” 

Axel winces when I laugh at him. “Fuck you.” Is all I have left. Fuck Axel and fuck Roxas and fuck Sora and fuck me. 

A cold calm washes over me as I put my shoes on. I can hear Axel talking to me but its like he’s speaking a different language. I can’t process the words. I understand the tone; urgent, but the specific meaning I have no clue. And I don’t care to listen to him. 

I have no one left. 

Axel follows me outside, pleading with me and when he grabs ahold of me I punch him. My arm reeling back without my permission to swing up and hit him. I know its wrong as soon as I do it, like I knew kissing Sora was wrong. But I was somewhere outside my body, leaving my brain to do what it thought was best. 

Kissing Sora in public. 

Punching Axel. 

Who am I? 

“Don’t.” Is the last thing I say to Axel who’s holding his face and staring at me. Ridiculously I feel like apologizing. ‘Shit, sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m out of control.’ But the darkness in my heart outweighs that guilt, reminding me that he lied to me. And that I let him. 

Axel watches me disappear. 

I get back on a gummie and I go home. 

~.~ 

The Cut That Always Bleeds – Conon Gray


	15. The Return Home

The Return Home

I’ve never snuck into my own house before, never entered primarily through the backdoor—crouching and waiting to see if any of the Harts were looking out their windows. And even though its only two days before Christmas the Hart house is quiet. 

My parents’ house is also quiet, but its always quiet. I hope beyond hope that no one is home. 

I walk through the back hall so angry and frustrated. I don’t know exactly how to feel after everything. What to say for myself. How could I ever face Sora again? With how Id spoken about him behind his back, said so many things Id been too cowardly to say to his face. Then kissing him in front of his parents’ house, and then left him there alone to explain why. Id outed him. You don’t out people and expect them to forgive you. Then I hit Axel who was more family with the Harts then I was at this point, would Roxas ever speak to me again? 

I was such a fuck up. If I thought I was unlovable before I knew now that Sora would never have me back after all of this. Not even in secret. I’d made too many mistakes. 

My mother is in her office—I can hear the taping of her keyboard. I try to sneak past. 

“Darling?” Caught. “I thought you’d be with Sora until Christmas.” Then she pauses and simply looks at me. Id never seen so much emotion on my mother’s face. Not ever. It almost makes me laugh, her blatant worry. I must look a right mess. 

I lock eyes with her. “I want to transfer to Twilight Town next semester.” I tell her assertively. Not exactly sure where the words are coming from, all I knew for sure was that I had to disappear. Find a door and close Sora on the other side of it. Sora could be straight if I wasn’t around. He could get back with Kairi if that’s what he actually wanted. He could have the life he dreamed of. 

My mother ticks her head at me in a sharp, short gesture. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I want to transfer to Twilight Town next semester.” I repeat, putting all the conviction I have left into my words. To convince her that I really meant them, and that she didn’t need a good reason because I really meant them. 

But my mother didn’t work like that. She stands and leads me to the couch in the corner of her office and sits me down. Uncharacteristically, she brushes some hair from my forehead. “I heard you. I’ll ask again, where is this coming from?” 

I couldn’t look at her, her care wearing me down. My wounds desperate for any treatment. Who was this woman? 

“It’s an art school.” I mumble. 

A pause. “Yes.” 

“It’s my dream college.” 

“You’ve only spoken about Hollow Bastian. What changed?” 

“Nothing changed mom! Just because you don’t believe I could have a career in art doesn’t mean that I don’t want one. Could you please, for once, do something for me?” 

I expect immediate reparation, a cold cutting word, but for a long moment she only stares at me—thinking. Then stands and quietly walks toward her back bookshelves. I’ve done it now, made one more person mad at me. One more person to be disappointed in me. What did it matter? What did anything matter? 

Several black binders are placed at my side and then my mother does the unthinkable—she kneels before me, opening the first binder in my lap. I am confronted by a crayon drawing. Its not very good. The lines are all over the place like a kid drew them. 

“You made this where were two.” My mother says, catching and holding my gaze. “It was just after your birthday. We’d gotten you a tablet but all you wanted to do was scribble. We bought you two jumbo packs and washable paint for Christmas. You were over the moon.” 

She turns the page, and keeps turning, showing me many scribbled drawings. “I couldn’t keep them all. I tired to but you made so many.” Then she lands on a small canvas pulled from its frame with a wild image of the ocean. 

“You were four. We’d just gotten you your own easel. Rinoa was in the water with Sora and I think Squall had Roxas and you had to paint. I was very impressed when you gave this to me.” 

I try to repress a sob and fail. 

She turns the pages and stops on the next painting. It seemed Id discovered acrylics. The painting was one of my father, his long silver hair brushed to one side. 

“You were seven. Seven, Riku. Look at how much talent you had, even then.” 

My mother moves through the binders, sometimes stopping to tell me how old I was or where I’d gotten my inspiration—until I could remember making them. Id sometimes be so excited to show her, thinking that this would be the painting that got a response but always found her too busy to deal with me. Most of these Id left quietly on her desk and thought they’d just been thrown away. 

Eventually, we reach the last one. “This is the last painting you ever gave me. You were twelve and it was right before the summer we sent you away. You never showed me anything after that.” 

My mother’s eyes are glassy, and in all ways, our eyes are the same. 

“I think,” She starts, choosing her words carefully. “It is not advisable to turn the thing you love so much into a job, but, I do believe in you. You were born to make art. And I am very proud of you.” 

Its all I’d ever dreamed she’d say to me, I just thought Id have to earn it. I break. My chest heaving as I try to repress my sobs. The crater in my chest transforming into a black hole and I implode. 

“He doesn’t want me, mom.” 

My mother’s arms circle me, and she pulls me into her chest. I can’t remember the last time my mom held me. Id been convinced that she hadn’t even held me as a baby, picked me up, sure, but never held me. Never rocked me. Never shushed me. Now she expertly folds me into her much smaller frame, presses me to her heart, and its like being welcomed home for the first time. Even as she silently combs her fingers through my hair, and I tell her everything. Not even sure I’m making any sense. 

I tell her about Sora and I’s romantic relationship and how much I love being with him. About how he wouldn’t tell anyone. Then about Kairi how she was still the person Sora wanted to present to the worlds as his partner. When I tell her about how I thought she was ashamed of me and that he was ashamed of me too she squeezes onto me tight. 

I don’t tell her about Axel. Even as much as I want to tell her how bad I feel for punching him. That’s not who I am. That’s not who I want to be. I don’t actually want to do anyone any real harm. So I don’t tell her, and I as a result I don’t have to beg her not to fire him. 

My mother only listens, mostly because I think she doesn’t know what to say. I cling to her anyway, wanting to feel small. Wishing I had memories of her holding me when I was small. Upset with her comfort. Upset that it took her so long to tell me she didn’t believe I was a mistake. My upset feelings unable to fully release and let me have base comfort. 

“You should paint.” She tells me after many moments of quiet. 

“I can’t.” 

“You need to.” 

Together we go up to my bedroom. It’s a perfect remnant from my past, preserved from the last day I was here. My set up still untouched, left in the circle of windows, right beside my double doors. Left for when I needed escape from my parents get togethers. I left it so I would always have refuge in this house. 

My mother indulges me by helping me close all the curtains before sitting me at my easel and wracking a blank canvas. Lastly she puts a paint brush in my hand. 

I am overwhelmed by white. “I can’t.” I repeat. 

My mother doesn’t listen. She squeezes out a bit of blue, Sora’s color, dips my paint bush in it and guides our hands to the canvas creating a streaky blue line; interrupting the overabundance of white. 

“Paint.” She tells me, letting go. “Just paint. I have some phone calls to make. Okay?” 

I don’t think to much about what calls she has to make two days before Christmas, instead I lose myself in actions I have repeated time and time again. I plate more colors and do as she bids. I paint. 

Its nothing. Less then garbage. But the act alone is enough to calm me. I unwind all the anger in my heart and give it somewhere to go. 

Awhile after I fall into bed, exhausted. When I take up its early morning. I find I have enough energy to call Sora or to talk myself into calling Sora. It takes me a few moments to hit send but I do, peaking through my curtains and finding both the twins in Sora’s room. He answers on the first ring. 

“Riku,” the desperation in his voice wounds me, being able to see him doesn’t help. 

“Hey,” I say in a small voice, unsure of what to say next. 

I listen to him breathe. “Where are you?” 

“Somewhere safe. I’m still not ready to see you.” Even though I could technically see him. The noise he makes is pained. “Where are you?” I ask in return. 

“Home. I was in the apartment, but Axel carried me out and now he’s guarding the door and Roxas won’t leave me alone. You’re really not going to tell me where you are?” 

“Will you stay home if I do?” 

Sora’s very quiet. “No.” 

I nod to myself, watching Sora flop down on his mattress in a huff, avoiding Roxas’ questioning face. 

“Will you tell Axel I’m sorry I punched him?” 

Sora sighs angrily. “No. I don’t want to. He shouldn’t have done that to you.” 

“He didn’t deserve to get hit. You don’t have to mean it. Just tell him.” 

Sora chews on some words. “Riku I’m—” 

“Hey now.” I say, cutting him off. I was not ready for that. “You sound tired.” 

“So do you.” 

“I haven’t been sleeping very well.” 

“Me neither.” 

“You laying down?” 

“Yeah…?” 

“Me too.”

It’s nice to listen o him breathe. I can almost imagine him in the room with me. I match his breathing and we find connection through the phone. I miss him and simultaneously I don’t want to see him. Still not ready to listen to his explanations and really hear him. I’m still not ready to be in the same room as him but I still miss him. Desperately. 

I watch him lose his battle with sleep and after he’s completely out I hang up the phone. Roxas in the place I should be, brushing his hair back from his forehead. His always open window letting the breeze in. We used to stand on our balconies and talk on nights I had to stay him. On weekdays. Where Id sit with the doors open and paint. Now his windows were open and mine are closed tight. 

I go downstairs around noon, rummaging in the kitchen for something to eat. Something that wasn’t a necessary ingredient for tomorrows Christmas dinner. 

My mother joins me, and makes us both two colorful salads, ignoring me when I try to take over. We sit at the bar together. Staring into each other’s matching eyes, and chew. 

“You’re lucky.” She says.

“Whys that?” I say automatically, wincing at my bratty tone. “Sorry.” 

My mother waves a manicured hand, ‘think nothing of it.’ “You’re lucky I have connections in Twilight Town U.” She pulls over a tablet and pulls up a document. “You should already have this in your inbox, but this is your class schedule. Only forty hours. I want you to relax some. I command it.” She opens a second document. “This one is your dorm information. No apartment. I want you with people darling. You’ll have your won room and shower but I’m insisting you socialize.” 

“Twilight Town?” I repeat stupidly. 

My mom takes both my hands in hers. “I know you asked out of anger, but I think it will be good, for both of you, to spend some time apart.” 

I shake my head. “I can’t leave the islands.” 

“You can and you will. Hate me if you must, but your gummie leaves on the third.” 

“How will I tell Sora?” 

“With your words.” 

~.~ 

My mother worked fast. Her status and munny allowed her to work fast. To break me out of my year lease, enrolling me in Twilight Town, and by-pass the dorm waitlist all overnight. My privilege was astronomical, especially since, despite all her effort and her quick success I did not want to go. 

I did. Of course I did. I wanted to go to an art school. I even, in a lot of ways, wanted dot get away from this whole fiasco. Away from Sora. Away from the islands. Away from myself and the person I was here. 

But then I had to tell him. I had to tell him I was going, and really who was I without him? So far I was an asshole. So far I was a cry baby. So far I was not very much at all without him. 

I was going to leave the islands without Sora. 

I sit in my window and watch the Harts. They eat together in the dining room, even Sora. Then they gather in the living room and watch Christmas movies and they drink cold Cocoa and they eat undecorated cookies. Axel says something and both the twins laugh, Roxas giving him a playful shove. It was nice to see Sora smile. He would be okay without me. Sora was Sora, he would always be okay. 

After the second movie ends Sora stands and his parents hug him at the base of the staircase for a very long time before he goes up by himself. The rest of my family staying down, moving from movies to board games. Mr. Hart had broken out some brandy and was sharing it with the table. Why was Sora missing out on this? 

I watch him flop down on his bed and put his phone to his ear. Mine rings. I answer. 

“What are you doing?” I ask right away. 

Sora sits up with a surprised jolt. “What do you mean?” 

“You should be with them.” 

“Riku…you’re not making any sense.” 

“Downstairs. You should be with your family. Why are you in your bedroom alone?” 

Sora looks around wildly. “How do you know that? How do you know where I am? Its not fair. Since I don’t know where you are.” 

My heart thuds in my chest. “I have to tell you something.” 

He swallows. “You want to break up.” 

“I don’t know.” I answer truthfully. And I didn’t know, I kept going back and forth between each possibility. 

“I don’t. I don’t want to break up.” 

“You might.” 

I watch him shake his head vigorously. “No.” 

“You might after I tell you what I have to tell you.” 

“Did you sleep with someone else?” Sora’s tone is broken, but resigned to the idea that I was off occupying another’s bed. 

“I see now how annoying the guessing is.” I tell him and he laughs a little. “Meet me outside? On your balcony?”

Sora looks to his balcony doors and then at mine, he steps out into eh night air and stares, wide eyed, at my double doors until I too step out and we look at each other. I still feel hurt, which makes me feel stupid. This was Sora, couldn’t I get over it already? So what if he had no intention of telling his family, they knew now. Wasn’t that enough? 

No. It wasn’t. 

“Were you there the whole time?” Sora asks in a strangled voice. I hear him reverberated through the phone I can’t put down. 

“Since after Axels, yeah.” I nod. “I would never sleep with someone else.” 

Sora sobs, tears welling. “Can I come over?” I shake my head, and Sora winces. “What can I do to make this better? What can I do to fix us?” 

“I don’t know, Sora. Go back in time?” 

Sora starts crying, he hasn’t put down his phone either. “I’m so sorry Riku. I’m beyond sorry. I wish there was another word other then sorry that I could say. I know I messed up. I wanted to tell them—” 

“Why didn’t you? Not just about us, but Kairi, why?” 

Sora swallows but meets my gaze. “Can I please come over?” I shake my head slowly a second time. No. And he sighs and then breathes. “They accepted Axel without the blink of an eye. And Axels tall, loud, older, has face tattoos and they just accepted him. Not that they shouldn’t have but it’s a big jump from Namine to Axel.” He peaks up at me, as if that explains anything. 

“Am I weirder looking then Axel?” 

“No. Stop.” Sora breathes again. “I thought there wouldn’t be any left for me. Acceptance. That they’d used it all up already. I think you were right. I think I felt like I had to be the…straight twin. The normal one. Which sounds so fucked up.” 

I wince. “If I had known either of you were listening, I would have never said—” 

“I know, but you were right. It scares me how much I love you sometimes, because there aren’t any gay Blitzball players. And we’d spend all night together and then Id have to listen to Tidus, and the guys, throw around words like faggot and queer like they’re less then nothing. I was scared I couldn’t be on the team anymore if they knew I was those things.” 

“You should have told me.” 

“Why? So you could Tidus.” 

“No so I could understand.” 

“I should have done a lot of things.” Sora bites his lower lip. “I do want to be with you. You told Axel that I didn’t want to be with you, and I do. I don’t want this to be the end. I don’t want to break up. So can I come over now? Please?” 

I want to say yes, come over. I also want to say, that that’s not up to you. “I still haven’t told you what I need to tell you.” 

“Then tell me.” 

I meet his eyes and hang up my phone, so its just me and him. No distractions. No walls. “I asked to be transferred to Twilight Town next semester.” 

“Why?” He croaks, choking up. 

I give him a half-hearted shrug. “I was mad, and its my top school so…” 

“You’re leaving me?”

“I fly out on the third.” I confirm. 

Sora looks me up and down with utter disbelief and then stumbles backwards through his double doors, closing them on me. He goes to each window and shuts it, drawing his curtains, separating himself from me. 

I return to me bedroom. Its done. The thing I had with Sora. Done. I know it so profoundly. We will never be the same. 

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging on the back of my door. I look exactly the same as I always do. Long hair. Sharp features. Tired. How could I not look any different after everything?

I grab hold of a spare pair of scissors, I hold my hair firmly in a fist, and I cut. 

There, I think as the pieces scatter around me, someone new. 

~.~ 

Run – Joji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading this so far. I really am enjoying making it. Sorry the last update was so late but my life is getting busy. I probably will only be able to update once a week for awhile if that. I'm going to try my best to keep up with my schedule but I have a lot of life stuff going on. 
> 
> Im still going to post this weekend since the next chapter is also pretty short but after that I'll be once a week instead of twice a week. 
> 
> Please comment what you think! I love all the feedback I get. Thank you !


	16. The Countdown

The Countdown 

Sora has looked at me three times since I came downstairs. His eyes have glazed over me and continued their search. He was looking for me but couldn’t see me. Who knew cutting my hair would be quite the costume? 

The house was already full of guests when I came down, the new years eve party in full swing. A variety of my extended family gathered in small circles. I had intended to kiss my mother on the cheek and say ‘yes, look I came downstairs.’ ‘I put on the suit you laid out.’ ‘I’m not moping stop sending me passive aggressive texts.’ Then Id go back upstairs after eating some food, speaking to a select few, and I would let the new year pass in paint strokes. 

My plans changed when I saw them. The whole Hart family mingling with some of my relatives. While Sora looked for me he followed Roxas like a baby duckling, as if they were conjoined. 

I couldn’t blame him for not seeing me, most of my family had bright silver hair, but none of them had my eyes. It was amusing in some ways, hurtful in others. How could he not see me? 

We’d texted some since that night, but it was all to-do lists. 

On Christmas he’d messaged me. ‘Thank you for the gift. I’m not going to open it.’ 

Id forgotten Mrs. Hart had put it under their tree and felt embarrassed now that we weren’t, technically, together anymore. ‘That’s probably for the best.’ Id replied. 

A couple of days ago Id messaged him. ‘We’re going to pack up the apartment on the first. You’ll need to pick up what you want and then turn in your key.’ 

‘Where?’ 

‘Mailbox is fine.’

Soon after Id sent the text I saw Sora scurry out of his house, drop his key in our mailbox and run back inside, pointedly not looking at my windows. Apparently he wanted nothing of our life together, not even his spare clothes. 

But I could understand why he was upset with me. It had crushed him for months when they moved Roxas, and now I was forcing him to reconfigure his life plan a second time. And I was still hurt by what he’d done, how technically we’d made life plans he had no intention of following through with at all. Its why I was very surprised to see him in my living room. I didn’t imagine he’d ever step foot in this house, much less with me still in it. 

Now his eyes keep darting to the staircase and every so often Roxas will hold onto his elbow and shake his head. 

Its Sora’s mom who finds me first. She throws her arms around me without hesitation and pulls me into a tight squeeze. Her eyes are soft when they look at me, when she takes in my short hair. I can’t find the right words to say to her, not even basic pleasantries will form. ‘Hi. How have you been? How was your Christmas?’ I can’t say anything. I stand there and stare at her. How is she not mad at me? 

“You know,” she says, breaking the long silence between us. “I was more surprised when Sora told me he was dating Kairi. I always thought it would be you two.” I nod, that had been the general consensus. 

I tighten my grip on the cup I’m holding. 

Mrs. Hart pats my cheek. “You two will be okay, and maybe one day you really will call me mom.” She winks at me and I laugh a little, rolling my eyes.

“You really don’t care, do you?” I ask, gently. 

She shakes her head. “I care very much.” She tells me, a wobble in her throat. “I care that Sora felt like he couldn’t tell us, and I care very, very much that you got hurt.” She squeezes my arm. “Do I care that you two are both boys? No. You have always fit together, and I love both so much.” 

I nod again, swallowing back my emotions. “If things don’t work out with Sora, will you still love me?” 

“Always.” She tells me sternly, vividly, forcefully as if trying to put the word inside me, imprint it on me somewhere. She puts both hands on my face and openly let tears stain her cheeks. “But you two will work out, you’ll see.”

I give her a pained smile after being needled in so many places. By the love her gave so freely, by her raw faith. 

When she steps away from me I look up to find Sora staring at me in wide-eyed horror. After the heavy conversation I wasn’t ready to face him. To say happy new year and make nice. Play pretend that we were okay, and if we didn’t do that I certainly wasn’t ready for a back to back heartfelt conversations. 

I retreat, stepping out onto the front porch. Everyone else was either inside or out back on the beach. I sit on the stair, reflecting and breathing in the night air. So much salt. I was going to miss that. I was going to miss so many things about my home. The hot, never changing weather. The beach at every corner. Our huge bulbus moon. And the boy I grew up next to who had been in every chapter of my life so far. 

A person sits next to me leaning back on their hands. 

“All your family looks crazy the same.” Axel. Id seen him like a bright spot among silver introducing Roxas to the rooms of people, who some of, Axel now worked with. 

His fire personality made me go ice cold. “What do you want?” 

Axel bobs his head from side to side, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. “What I did to you was really messed up and I’m sorry. And I wanted to say thanks, too, for not having me fired.” 

“I’m not an asshole.” 

“I know that.” Axel insists, turning towards me. “I know too that if Id done what I said I was going to do you wouldn’t be moving away. I promised you I wouldn’t tell Roxas and I did. Then we made that stupid plan and that was wrong.” 

“What does that change?” I ask him. I felt bad for hitting him, I remember the guilt it brought, yet in that exact moment I wanted to hit him again. 

Axel smiles softly, wounded by my hostility. “Nothing I guess. Sora told me you don’t take apologies well. I hope you can forgive him at least; he really does love you.” He stands. “I hope we can be friends again, one day.” Then he turns. 

“Have you told Roxas about your tattoos?” I spit. 

Axel looks down at me, puzzled. “Personal question.” 

“You own me one.” 

He wrinkles his brow and then remembers the day I drew him, where we’d ended uneven and Id given him one extra personal answer. “That’s right. No. I haven’t.” 

“Then you do keep secrets from him.” 

Axel visibly winces, and the justification I want to feel goes gooey black in my heart, filling me to the brim with sludge. But Axel recovers, putting on the face he gave everyone and its only then I can see the differences in the one he used to give me. I don’t soften my cold stare, its not like we were going to be friends again anyway. 

“Happy new year.” He says, rather plainly. 

“Happy new year.” I reply. 

As soon as he’s inside I put my head in my hands. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to explode into thousands of tiny pieces and scatter myself among the stars. I want to go back in time. I want to see Sora. 

I sit outside for at least ten minutes, breathing in the night air, not knowing if I have the will power to go back inside and not act like a total maniac. When I stand there he is, stepping out onto the porch. I’ve never seen him sleepless, large bags under his glossy blue eyes. I couldn’t even appreciate his tight pants properly. Those eyes held and haunted me. 

Sora steps close to me and shuts the door behind him, closing out the sounds of the party, and then steps away. An invisible barrier between us. 

“You cut your hair.” Sora says like he’s accusing me of something else. 

“I did.” I confirm, and shrug. “It was wild when I first did it. The hair dresser had to cut it a lot shorter than Id really planned.” Not that Id really planned to cut my hair at all, now the edge was just below my chin, my bangs set just above my eyes. I give him a close-lipped smile, he doesn’t smile back, only stares. “Breathe Sora.” 

At my command he sucks in a deep breath, in and then out.

“Am I ugly now or something?” I tease, but I know my tone comes out too flat for it to sound genuine. Its not what I want to be saying, but it’s too nice, to stand close to him, even when he looks like he’s about to cry. 

“Of course not! You look really different, that’s all. Really different.” Sora frowns. “How do you keep it out of your face when you paint?” 

I laugh. “I have to wear a bandana.” 

A little of his cloud lifts when he smiles. “Really? That’s so cute.” 

“I am not cute.” 

Sora huffs. “Sometimes you are. I want to see you in a bandana.” 

“I have a painting in progress if you want to come up.” 

Sora nods eagerly, just as surprised as I am by my offer. “Yeah.”

So I lead him upstairs, not that we would have really been bothered on the porch. And even though both our families are watching us, and Sora must know this too but he still comes up with me, regardless of what they must think. 

Once we get in my room the awkwardness returns, I didn’t anticipate to feel this tight feeling with a bed nearby. 

“Aren’t you going to sit?” I ask him after a minute. 

“Yeah.” He says, eyeing me. “Its weird being in your room. I just realized how much we hung out in my room. I’ve never spent the night here.” My heart drops at the thought that he probably never would. 

“No you haven't. ” I tell him, carefully calculating my expression. 

Sora nods, lost in his head. I could tell I wasn’t reacting the wat he was hoping I would. “So where’s that bandana?” I show him, pulling it from my side table. “Aw, I was thinking it’d at least be…I don’t know, patterned or something. Isn’t plain black a little too on brand?”

“So you don’t want me to put it on?” 

“No, please put it on.” Sora sits on the edge of my bed and waits patiently. I pull it down and then up, smoothing back all the hair from my forehead. Sora erupts in a fit of giggles. “You look like your mom!” 

I make a face at him. “Take that back.” 

“You do!” 

“Take it back.” I say, advancing on him. I mean to do something playful, like tackle him backwards on the bed, especially since he’s got that shit eating grin on, but as soon as I have my arms around him everything else falls away. He stands and steps into my embrace. I squeeze and Sora sighs and squeezes me back. 

I don’t know how long we stand like that, but eventually Sora leans back and slowly pulls the bandana from my head and threads one hand into my hair. The other he brings up to my cheek. I very seriously think he’s going to kiss me, and it’s the first time in my whole life I’m not sure if I want him to. 

“Its so short.” He says absently. 

“I knew you only liked me for my hair.” 

Sora rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Its not the only reason, stupid. But I did love your hair.” He hates it, which isn’t a bad feeling, knowing that he hates it. I already knew he wouldn’t like it. 

“We should probably go back down.” I say regretting the worlds when they come out. “Mom’ll want me among the guests.” 

When I try to step away from him, Sora puts both arms around my middle and tightens his grip, making all the air woosh out of me. “Hey now, I can’t go anywhere if you do that.” I say, half-joking. Then I feel his hot tears and hold him closer to me, pressing my cheek into the side of his head. “Sora.” 

“Do you really have to go?” He asks and I know he doesn’t mean downstairs. I can only nod. “I looked it up. You’ll do so good there. Its perfect for you.” He says, putting on a brave face. 

“Thanks.” I say, not really knowing what else to say. 

Sora moves away from me and I don’t want to let him, but I do. “Okay. Let’s go. I really want some champagne” 

I laugh. “Me too.” 

We get downstairs just as the countdown starts. 

10!

We join in. 

9! 

Smiling at each other. 

8! 

Gods above, I love him. 

7! 

Why couldn’t I tell him I’m going to miss him?

6! 

Sora faces me. 

5! 

His eyes almost back to normal. 

4! 

I can’t stop grinning at him. 

3! 

Sora pushes up to his tippy toes. 

2! 

Leans in. 

1! 

And kisses me as the world slows in one perfect moment or cheering and steamers and reigning in the new year with his kiss. 

“Happy new year,” he says after. 

“Happy new year.” 

~.~ 

I Still Have Me - Cyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About time, amiright? 
> 
> Also: I know this is only a fanfiction but everyone out there please stay safe and stay strong.


	17. The Goodbye

The Goodbye 

New years for me is typically uneventful, usually spent reflecting on my resolutions or catching up on sleep after spending the night at the Harts and only occasionally popping in on my parents’ party. 

Instead, I stand with my mother in the quickly deconstructed bits of me and Sora’s home. Boxes and movers turning my once-apartment into a shifting labyrinth. 

My mother had started without me, always down to business and all my large furniture was gone before I arrived. No couches. No tables. No bed. The removal of these things transformed this place from where me and Sora were happy to an apartment Id lived in. Wall. Rooms. Doors. And a chaotic mess of things my mother had already started sorting into storage, throw-away, or move. 

The one space she hadn’t touched was my second bedroom, my art room. 

When I step into the room, she steps back, but I stop her. “Want to see what I’ve been working on?” 

I’ve been slowly getting better at noticing my mother’s warmth, the twitch of a smile indication of her surprise. “Id love that,” she tells me in a delicate, even tone, squeezing my arm when she comes to stand at my side. A gesture I used to think meant move but was slowly understanding meant a myriad of things. Sometimes it meant I see you, or I’ve missed you, or I’m listening to you. In this exact moment I knew it meant, thank you. 

My lewd drawings I always kept diligently put away so there was no chance of her seeing them, but my mind was so heavily focused on remembering what actually was on my easel that Sora’s bed blindsided me. 

“You really didn’t touch this room.” I say, eyes fixed. 

“I’m surprised we’re still on speaking terms. I would like to keep it that way.” My mother tells me matter-of-factly. 

I chuckle a little and nod. We’d spoken more in this past week then we had in years. Still on speaking terms was a funny way of putting now we talk when we didn’t before. 

“Though, can I ask? Why is there a bed in here?” 

I tsk. “It was Sora’s. Sometimes Id be up all night working on a project or painting, but we wanted to be together.” 

Another hand on my shoulder, another squeeze. She did that a lot. Maybe she’s why I always had to squeeze Sora’s hands. Id inherited her love language. 

“Have you two talked at all?” 

“Somewhat.” I say, knowing that we’ve told each other things, but I wasn’t really sure if that counted. I wasn’t really sure if the kiss last night counted. I wasn’t really sure if our whole sexual relationship counted. And if it didn’t count then we didn’t have to talk about it. Can’t break up two people who weren’t really, ever together. 

One last squeeze. “You know what you need to do.” She tells me and then she walks over to one of the two paintings I always kept out. “Now tell me about this.” It was the muddy pond from that weekend. 

I do. I tell her about the trip and the surprise getaway and how Sora had planned everything just to celebrate my birthday. I tell her about Ansem. I tell her about the house. And lastly I tell her about this muddy little pond that is still one of the most glorious things I’ve ever seen. 

We go through nearly my entire body of work like that, my mother listening so intensely while I gush over when it was, or how I was feeling, or what random bit of inspiration Id found. I even show her the paintings I made after check-ins, the ones I made to put my angry feelings towards her and my father. These she views with quiet sadness. 

I talk a lot about Sora and every time I do my mother’s frown deepens slightly, the hint of a storm brewing. 

Finally I sigh at her. “Whatever it is just say it already.” 

She purses her lips. “I didn’t expect Sora to take care of you so actively. The way you tell me he’s treated you—it doesn’t sound like the actions of someone who doesn’t want you.” I close my eyes, as if that could stop me from hearing her. “After what you told me that night I thought, perhaps, Sora simply didn’t know how to say no to you. But after speaking with Rinoa and Squall and you talking about him in this way, I think I was wrong. I think Sora loves you a great deal more then either of us gave him credit for.” 

“I can’t believe you guys are having secret parent meeting about us.” 

My mother waves a dismissive hand. “We’ve always had secret parent meetings about you two.” 

I laugh a little. Why am I not surprised? “I don’t know mom. If you love someone and you aren’t ashamed that you love them, if you really want to be with them, don’t you, at least, tell your family you broke up with your ex?” My mother returns to her contemplation. “I know Sora loves me and I always want him in my life, but he wants two lives. To be a famous Blitzball star, liked by everyone, not gay and to marry me? So what? Our kids can call me uncle Riku and I can watch his team constantly try to push women on him?” I take a deep breath, realizing how angry I’m getting. “I know that some gay couples used to have to do that to have careers, or shit, to stay alive. But I don’t want to. I just don’t want to.” 

“And you shouldn’t have to.” She assures me firmly. “Why does Sora believe that he does? Why can’t he have both?” 

“I don’t know but being with me will make his Blitzball career harder. I don’t want him to resent me for that.” 

“That’s why you’re okay? That’s why you haven’t fought me about moving away?” 

“Yeah,” I tell her honestly. 

My mother pinches her face into a determined grimace. “Id like to see anyone try and discriminate against the Genova name. If you two were public, Id like to see anyone try and say a damn thing.” She hisses coldly with the look of a battle master preparing for war. Then those steely eyes turn on me. “Promise me you’ll tell him this, all of this. Every word that you told me. Promise me you’ll listen to what he has to say.” 

We take each other’s hands and squeeze. “I promise.” I confirm when she refuses to let go. 

~.~

Sora’s in my room after what ended up being an exhaustingly emotional apartment deconstruction. My keep pile at the end pathetically small. A suitcase of clothes. Selections of bedding. The usable art supplies, and some electronics I liked. A spec of the space Id occupied. An almost clean slate. 

Its almost sundown when we return and he’s just there. Playing a game, laid back on my pillows like he belongs there. 

“Hey.” He greets me, putting his console to the side. “Your dad let me in. I think he thought you were going to be home a lot sooner.” 

I eye him, taking of my shoes. “Packing took a lot longer than I expected.” 

Sora grits his teeth but smiles a smile that barely touches his cheeks and doesn’t extend anywhere near his eyes. “You’re all ready then?”

“Pretty much. Moms handling the rest.” 

“Where’s your apartment going to be?” 

“Oh.” I say, sitting on my art stool and I swing it to face him. We really haven’t talked. We told each other everything so often Id forgotten he had no idea the details of what was going on. “No apartment. I’m going to be staying in the dorms.” 

“You, in a dorm?” Sora asks incredulously, forgetting his hurt for a moment. 

I laugh with him, knocking one of his knees with my own. “She’s convinced it’ll help me socialize. Make friends. Be normal, or whatever…” 

“Make new friends.” He emphasizes sadly. “She hates me, doesn’t she?” 

“I don’t think so.” I tell him, thinking back to our conversation about him. “Did you know our parents have secret meetings about us?” 

Sora nods, “They’re plotting against us.” 

“Actually,” I say, a bit detached. “I think they’re doing the exact opposite.” 

Sora swallows and looks glumly at his hands. He was joking. I know that, but it still hurt that despite everything, in his mind, our parents couldn’t be for us. I knew as soon as I saw the Hart family in my living room last night that it was our mothers scheming to get us in the same room. 

“I got you something.” He tells me, breaking the silence. “Not your Christmas gift but its like a goodbye present I guess.” 

“Give it to me when we say goodbye then.” 

Sora shakes his head vigorously. “I’ll be a mess at the station. I don’t want to forget, plus Id love to see you use it.” 

I eye him suspiciously. “Fine. What is it?” 

Sora pulls a wildly colored hair band out of his pocket. A neon tie-dye glitter thing and hands it to me. I take it from him, stretching the wide bandana in both my hands. 

“Where’d you get this?” I say, disgusted. 

“Discount bin. You’re lucky I’m not forcing the whole pack on you.” 

“A whole pack? One is already way too much.”

Sora shrinks into himself a little. “You don’t have to use it.” 

“No I—” I start, swallowing back the lump in my throat. “I’ll use it. And when people ask me about it. I’ll tell them my psycho best friend got it for me to embarrass me form afar.” 

Sora laughs with me and then nudges me with a toe. “Are you going to paint right now?” 

I shake my head. “Mom made me get up at eight.” 

“Woah.” 

“I know.” 

“So a nap?” 

I shake my head again. “Got to try and get back on a normal sleep schedule,” I say yawning. “All my classes are in the morning.” 

“You picked morning classes?” He says, again incredulously. 

“No, you goof. I got what was left over. My transfer was so short notice I pretty much got thrown into four random classes. I guess that most college art students don’t like mornings, including me.” 

Sora nods, he completely does not want to talk about this but was being a good sport. “Only four classes?”

“Mom insisted. Only four.” 

Sora swallows. “She really wants you to make new friends.” 

“Making new friends isn’t a bad thing Sora, it doesn’t mean you forget your old friends.” 

“It does if you want to forget them. And you’re great so I’m sure you’ll make lots of new friends and its an art school, so they’ll be plenty of people who are…your type.” 

I reach out to squeeze one of his hands and then stop myself guiding my hand up and threw my hair, breathing a sigh. Sure, there would be other gay people, other men, who before Sora and I got together would have been what I considered my type. But we had gotten together. I couldn’t even imagine trying to date someone else. 

“I’m not going to forget you. And all that other stuff too. You don’t have to worry about that.” I say. 

“I don’t have to worry about it like its none of my business, or I don’t have to worry about it like…we’re still together?” 

“Sora.” I sigh. This is hard. This is really, really hard. He’s going to start crying any second now and that made me want to shut up, but I made my mother a promise. “You’re going to be famous one day.” I start, and Sora shakes his head at me about to get mad at my seemingly random statement. “And with any luck I will be too. But I’ll be an artist, no one will bat an eye if I have a male partner. But you, you’re going to be a Blitzball Star. I bet you’ll get signed before you even graduate college. You’re too good not to.” 

“Okay…?” 

“Isn’t it easier for you if we aren’t together? Because I’m not going to live a life where my kids can’t call me dad in public or my husband won’t wear his ring. And if you don’t even want to admit I’m your boyfriend then how is any of the rest of it supposed to happen? Don’t you want a partner you can be proud of?” I end, speaking more rationally then I thought I would. 

Sora stares at me for a long time, holding back tears. “…but I love you.” 

I wipe a stray tear with my thumb. “I love you too, and I really don’t want to be with anyone else.” 

“Me either!” He interjects. 

I sigh, unsure of what to do or how to feel. “I still think we should take a break. I’m leaving and without me here maybe you can look for a girl that…” 

“Riku stop it. Please. I can’t take this. How can you think I want to be with some girl?” 

“What am I supposed to think, Sora? What am I supposed to do? The only reason your parents know about us is because I outed you. Hell, the only reason they know you broke up with Kairi, who is a girl by the way. And you broke up with her, what, four or five months ago? If you can’t tell Roxas how you feel about me, how can I expect you to tell the worlds? Or shit, the islanders? Am I supposed to watch you get surrounded by pretty girls and have you tell them you’re not seeing anyone? Do you want me to be your secret lover and only your secret lover? Is that what you want me to do?” I yell, not sure when I started yelling, then I sigh and grit out. “And I know you still don’t want to tell anyone.” Sora winces at me guiltily. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you that night.” 

Sora can only shake his head, emotionally capsized. I want to reach out to him. I want to rock him and shush him and tell him everything will be okay. But I don’t. I don’t know if everything will be okay. 

“We will always be best friends.” I say in an attempt to cheer him up, because that is something I do know for sure. Sora makes this terrible pained noise and all he can do is cry. And all I can do is watch him cry. When he’s settled some I tentatively ask. “Do you want me to walk you home?” 

“No! I have three days left.” 

“Two.” I correct. “My flight leaves at eight on the third.” 

“So early.” 

“Mom’s a planner. She’s got the whole day mapped out.” I shake my head, half smiling. I had always known about her control freak tendencies. When I was younger she made schedules I strictly followed. These new ones I rewrote and sent back to her. “She’s going to flip when I ask to go by myself.” 

“You’re going alone?” 

“Yeah. I want to do it myself, set up my dorm, meet people. I don’t want my mom to micromanage or talk to the other students like she’s introducing them to a new client. ‘Hi, have you met my son, Riku?’ No thanks.” I pause, averting my gaze. “For how much of a loner I am don’t think I’ve actually done anything by myself. Ever. I kind of want to see if I can.” 

Sora nods slowly, even if I’m sure he’s taking personal offense to everything I’m saying. 

“You hungry?” I ask. Sora shakes his head. “You’re not hungry?” Sora was always hungry. 

“No.” Sore tells me, but the sound he makes is hollow, sadness beyond sadness. 

“Well I am.” And I smile at him trying to get him to smile back at me. But he doesn’t. However, he still follows me downstairs where I fix a plate of leftover from last nights party. Sore watches, his eyes never leaving me, on an autopilot I can’t seem to shake him from. 

When we go back upstairs we put on a movie and he doesn’t touch any of my food like I expect him to and over half of it goes uneaten. Together, we jab at the objectively bad movie. I know we both want to say more about our once relationship and our current relationship. I know Sora wants to repeat sorry until he’s blue in the face, but thankfully, he doesn’t.

Surprisingly Sora falls asleep before I do, leaning back on the couch, posed right above my shoulder. 

What’s wrong with me? I want him, even now with all my extra hurt I want him. Even with our unsure future I want him. But when he’s in my face telling me how he wants me too, how sorry he is, how he doesn’t want tot break up I don’t want to hear it.

I make great arguments for why we shouldn’t be together, and those things blind me for why we should be together. 

Were a good team. 

We always managed to have fun. 

We used to be able to talk about anything. 

We had great sex. 

Sora didn’t act like someone who didn’t want to be with me, at least not when we were alone. But maybe that was a guilt reaction. Sora used to drag me to high school parties. Sora used to hug me hello and goodbye. Sora used to not give a shit if anyone thought he was gay. I wonder were that had gone? Actually being the thing that people made fun of him for being for years and years caused him to reject me in public. 

I couldn’t live with that. Denying me at every turn to keep his straight reputation. 

We could get back together. Stay together. But I couldn’t see a future where we didn’t do this over and over again until we couldn’t even be friends. 

I wrap his arms around my shoulders and hold him close. Sora snuggles into me with a sigh, not stirring when I pick him up. Then I carry him to his home and put him in his bed. I sit there until I’m sure he’s asleep. Then I go back to my room and I get into my bed. 

I tell myself its easier this way. Its easier this way. Its easier this way. And if I keep saying it, maybe, one day, Ill believe it. 

When I wake up, he’s there. Sitting on the other side of the room a little awkwardly, staring down at his console, completely still, waiting for me to wake up. Had he done this all day yesterday? Waited? 

For me? 

I eye the clock on the night stand. Nine AM. Well that was progress at least, considering for the last year I didn’t get up past one unless I absolutely had to. 

Depending on what clubs I joined I could be crazy busy, even with only forty hours, beyond regular college busy. Beyond the busy that I had been, to keep myself from thinking about Sora staring down at his life not doing anything. Sora was built for doing things. For sports. For adventure. For life. He was not meant to be in his head so much. I was the overthinker. He was supposed to entrust the overthinking to me.

I sit up. “Can you promise me something?” I ask, kicking away covers. 

“What?” He says, snapping out of his funk momentarily. Not a what to elaborate, but to repeat. 

“I need you to promise me something.” I say again, leaning forward, elbows on knees. 

Sora furrows his brow. “How long have you been awake?”

“Sora.” I prod. Don’t change the subject. 

“If its to go out and date the answers no.” He says forcefully, not meeting my gaze. 

I visibly roll my eyes. “Kind of that. Kind of not that. You know that summer I got sent away?” Sora nods. “Your mom said you just moped around the house and I didn’t really believe her, but now…anyway. You can’t do that. Promise me you wont do that.” 

Sora shoves his prop console to the side and stares down at his hands for a while. “I’ve never done anything by myself either, you know.”

I think about that. Its true. We’d always been together, all our lives. My first painting. His first game. I was there when he tried out for the team in the first place. Id been on most family vacations. Every dumb idea he ever had Id come along for. Every dance. Every party. Every Birthday. We’d done pretty much everything together. Id never before thought of myself as part of the equation. That Sora relied on me as heavily as I relied on him. 

“Get your trunks on and meet me outside.” I tell him. 

Sora stubbornly grits his teeth and sinks deeper into the couch. “You’re not getting rid of me.” 

“Would you please trust me?” 

Our eyes lock for a long moment before, finally, Sora huffs. “Two minutes.” 

“I’ll need five.” 

“If I see one of those stupid black cars pull up ill—I don’t know what I’ll do—but I’ll do something.” 

I laugh softly at his ferocity. “Okay.” 

Stiffly he stands and rushes out of the room, his face set in a grim mask. 

I gather my materials and clunkily start taking everything downstairs. My father seeing my struggle takes half the load without a word. Somehow knowing Id refuse his help if he offered it. He even helps me take my items to the shore line, despite the nice shoes he’s wearing, finally bringing out my small stool, and placing it firmly in the sand. 

“Thanks.” I tell him, and he nods in quiet understanding before heading back inside. 

Alone, I set up set up my easel. My set of paints, some towels and probably more brushes then I was going to actually use. I’m almost done when Sora comes out in blue and yellow swim trunks, his face lightening when he sees me waiting for him. 

“You aren’t going to swim?” He asks me. 

“No. But you are.” 

“What are you going to do?”

I gesture to my set up. “What else?” He stands there unmoving, staring at me like he’s trying to figure out my ruse. “Get in the water, Sora. I swear to the Gods. I’m not asking you to jump off a cliff. Go for a swim or I won’t call you until the fourth.” 

“You’re such an ass.” He sneers at me and then he wades unhappily into the ocean and once there flops onto his back and floats. At first, I’m sure, to spite me but after a while to be pushed and pulled by the waves. 

I put on the bandana he gave me and paint. 

After awhile Roxas comes out a joins us. Not disturbing either of us. He sets his own chair in the sand and reads some book, every so often he will go into the water and draw Sora a little closer to shore. 

At lunch, my parents come out with beach chairs, books and several plates of leftover food. They set up a whole table. Sora comes out of the water to join us, Roxas tentatively with him. 

Sora bursts into a fit of laughter at the sight of my hair band. “That looks so stupid on you.” 

“It’s not a good look?” I ask in mock shock. 

We all sit in a circle and eat mostly in silence after everyone took a turn roasting my bandana of choice, which I pointed out was not my choice at all, but even I could see how little that mattered. 

When were done we settle in. Sora in the water—now switching between actively swimming and floating. Me mixing paints. And my parents and Roxas quietly reading. 

Closer to dinner the Harts come out with their own beach chairs and, with Axels help, start hauling out tons and tons of wood. Axel expertly building a pyre all on his own, as if he was old hat at starting fires. 

At the edge of sunset I feel wet fingers at my shoulder, then Sora throws a leg over me and sits without a word. I place a kiss on his neck without thought, falling into old habits. Sora tightens his hold when I try to move him off of me. 

“You’re getting me wet.” I halfheartedly protest. 

“You’ll dry.” He counters. 

“Sora.” I say exacerbated. 

“Hush.” He tells me firmly. “Just hush, Riku. I’m too tired to be sad.” He says matter-of-factly. A quiet advisory to stop making him sad. 

“Your family is staring at us.” Which was true, even if they were trying to be sneaky about it. This for sure I thought would cause him to stand up. 

Sora hums thoughtfully, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Is mom going to cry?” He whispers, his mouth right at my ear. 

I study her pinched face. “Maybe.” I whisper back.

“She misses you, maybe more then I do. Whatever you said to her on new years eve really shook her up.” 

“Hm.” I say, fighting away the memory, and relinquishing the idea that Sora was going to get off of me. “Shift to your left a little.” And Sora wiggles until I tell him to stop, his weight more evenly distributed across my lap. “Thanks.” 

“What did you say to her? She won’t tell me.” 

I look up to where her, Roxas and Axel we’re sneaking peaks at us and setting up a circle of tiki torches. Mr. Hart has pulled out a grill and a cooler. They were really going for it, a proper bonfire night. This wasn’t what Id intended, but I was incredibly happy they were all there.

I clear my throat. “She told me that you and I were going to work out. And then, I asked her if she’d still love me, even if we didn’t.” Sora wraps me tighter in his embrace, crying. “Hey,” I chide gently. “I thought you were too tired to be sad.” 

“Ugh. This is only the beginning. You’re leaving in less then twenty four hours and its all my fault.” 

“I mean,” I say, holding one of his thighs. “Technically, I asked to leave.” Trying to share some of the fault. 

“Yeah. Okay. If I had the guts to tell my incredible, accepting, family that I’m in love with you, you’d have asked at all? You’d still be telling me to date other people? You’d be saying we’ll always be best friends like that’s what I want? Really? I don’t think so.” 

I have no idea how to respond to that, so I put down my paint brush and hold him tight to me, not caring that everyone has stopped what they’re doing to stare at us. Apparently Sora doesn’t care either, because he simply sighs and squeezes me back, inching forward. 

Mr. Hart comes over and without the blink of an eye, he doesn’t even give us an awkward dad cough, and says. “Burgers or dogs?” 

“Burgers.” I say. 

“Both,” Sora says, blushing, but not moving. 

“How many?” He asks. 

“Two for me.” 

“Five of each.” 

To which Mr. Hart nods and walks away, giving us both, but mostly Sora, a soft look.

I laugh out loud. “Thank the Gods. I was getting worried; I’ve never seen you not eat.” 

“I’m starving.” He shrugs. “Swimming all day will do that.” 

“True.” 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“For?” 

“I love to swim.” He says. 

“Yeah I know.” 

“I really love Blitzball.” 

“I know that too.” 

“I really, really love you.” 

“I really, really love you too.” 

After a long, long time of simply holding each other we are pulled apart by the need for sustenance and join the circle of our two conjoined families. Where Mr. Hart grills. Our mothers gossip. And Sora and Roxas eat more than anyone who didn’t know them, would consider healthy. I sit with my father and quietly watch them, a solidarity in wanting to bask in this moment of togetherness; of unburdened closeness.

When it is fully dark we light the pyre. We all write down wishes and throw them in. The twins run around it. Mrs. Hart sings loudly and terribly and Axel keeps the fire stoked, it burning bright long into the night. 

And as far as unofficial going away parties went; this was one of the best. 

~.~

Its nearing midnight when we begin to let the fire die out, letting the cold night air back in. Sora rests his head on my shoulder with a heavy sigh. I throw an arm around him and hold him to my side. He wraps both his arms around my middle. Id missed his touch.

“You excited?” He mumbles, unhappily. 

I bob my head from side to side. Was I excited to move? That’s not the word I would have used. “In some ways. Not too much in others.”

“Don’t worry.” Roxas chimes in from his place beside Sora. “If your loner ass can’t make any friends we’ll be close by.” 

“Thanks but no thanks.” I deadpan. 

“Come on, Riku.” Roxas whines, but Axel gives me a close-lipped smile and draws his love away, leaving us at the shoreline alone. 

Sora fully tucks himself into me and shutters when I lightly run my fingertips down the back of his arms. “Can I stay the night tonight?” He whispers. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I say in a small voice. 

“But?” He inquires, hopeful. 

“I don’t want to have sex.” I tell him, even though it is a blatant lie. I do want to have sex. I want him underneath me, above me, all around me. I especially wanted him naked, to strip him of those shorts and see all of him. It was exactly why I didn’t think it was a good idea. Id gone almost two weeks without him, to restart that count just before I had to leave seemed cruel—to both of us. Wouldn’t it confuse both of us? Wouldn’t it go against everything I spoke allowed? Even if those things went against what I felt inside. 

“We had sleep overs when we were just friends,” He says, blushing and fidgeting at the mention of sex. 

“Sure, but I never thought of you as just a friend.” 

Sora pouts. “I’ll be good. I promise.” 

“Its not really you I’m worried about.” 

He laughs a little, “I’m not going to stop you.” 

“Yeah I know.” 

Then we move to go inside, my mother embarrassingly telling me outright that I didn’t have to worry because their bedroom was on the other side of the house. Were parents supposed to be so blasé about teenagers boning? Roxas not so subtly winks at Sora. Mrs. Hart hugs us both goodnight but squeezes me so tightly I think she’s trying to fold me in half and put me in her pocket. They watch us go inside, me bright red. Sora, for once, not blushing. Gods only knew what they thought we were going to do. Probably everything that I wanted to do but was terrified to do. 

Sora spends a little while in the shower, washing away the ocean and then joins me in bed in some of my spare clothes. Then we lay next to each other. I’m very careful not to touch him. 

I feel his foot on my foot. Then his knee on my knee. Followed by his calf on my calf. 

“Sora.” I say warningly. 

“Stop saying my name like that, So-ra.” He repeats. “I hate it.” 

“Then stop.” 

“Why? We cuddled all the time before.” 

“We also used to hug in public and touch hands, and I used to come over to your house a lot more.” I whisper hostilely and Sora goes cold, retreating into himself at my out of the blue anger. “I’m still mad. I don’t want to be. I really wish I wasn’t, but I am. I don’t get why you couldn’t tell your parents you broke up with Kairi. And I really don’t get why you couldn’t tell Roxas, because then I could have told Axel. You keep saying you don’t want to break up, but how can we? When you were single the whole time or still dating your ex?” 

“Fine,” He says raising his voice. “I did all that. I hurt you. I suck. I know. But you left. Do you have idea how I felt when you were gone? Just gone? You weren’t on our island or downtown. You weren’t anywhere.” 

“You aren’t turning this around on me.” 

“I’m not trying to.” Sora sobs, rolling onto his back. “I don’t want you to disappear.” 

I roll onto my back. How could he not want me to disappear? 

Its then that he pounces, snaking both arms around my middle and heimliching me into hugging him. He locks both arms around my back and refuses to let go. I’m squirming, begging him to release me, half-frustrated, half-laughing. Somehow I end up on top of him pressing my body down into his body, jerking around to get him to loosen his hold. My body recognizes his body and I freeze, trying to push myself to all fours. But Sora won’t let me. He’s managed to hook a leg around one of my calves and is so focused on getting the other one that he must not notice that he’s rubbing chest against chest. Pelvis against pelvis. 

“Paupu.” I say gruffly, and Sora releases me immediately more out of shock then respect for that word and I crawl backward until I hit the wall and push myself into a sitting position. Trying to calm every nerve that went haywire. That, for the most part, was completely innocent. Why was a I half hard already? 

Sora sits up, crossing his legs. He looks at me guilty and with a touch of sadness, picking at some loose threads in his shirt. “Sorry.” He says sheepishly. 

“Actually, for real, not your fault. I haven’t even…” I trail of, not wanting to escalate the situation. 

“What?” 

I sigh. “Beat off, since our last night. I know you didn’t mean it like that.” 

Sora crawls forward and throws a leg over me, sitting decisively in my lap even after I moved away from him. “I could do all the work.” He says. “You wouldn’t even have to do anything. I could just make you feel good.” 

I thread a hand into his hair, brushing lightly over all his perfect features. “No, Sora. And its not that I don’t want to. I do, obviously, but I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

Sora rings his hands in my shirt. “Exactly.” 

“I have no idea who I am without you.” I say kissing his cheek to soften the blow of my words. “And I meant what I said, you deserve a partner you can be proud of. And I want you to be so, so, so happy.” Well, that was only half true I wanted him to be so, so, so happy with me. “I want you to—”

“Stop. Stop it.” Sora buries himself into my shoulder. “Stop building my life without you in it and stop building your life without me in it. I’m not giving up. Tell me what I can do to make you believe me?” 

I put my chin on his shoulder. “I need space, Sora. And time.” 

“Away from me?” 

I squeeze him. “With myself. I love you and I will always love you. But maybe it if I was more secure—” 

“That’s my fault too. I made you feel insecure.” I don’t answer. “Can I say sorry one more time? Because I am, I’m so sorry.” 

I nod. I know that, but like most apologies, it doesn’t change anything. “Let’s go to sleep, okay?” 

“Are you going to sleep with other people while you’re there?” He asks, on the verge of tears. 

“No.” 

“What if you meet someone?” 

“Sora.” 

“What? It’s okay to talk about me dating someone else but not you?” 

“Its just ridiculous. Its not going to happen.” I tell him. 

“If happened before me, it could happen again.” 

“It won’t.” 

Sora huffs. “If it does I want to know. I’m reinstating our pact. No lies. No secrets.” 

“Ill hold you to that.” I tell him and he nods. “No lies. No secrets. You’re crushing me.” 

“I don’t care.” He says in response and we laugh. 

“This sucks.” I breathe. 

“This really sucks.” He agrees. “I really want to kiss you.” He whispers, his hot breath tickling my neck and all of a sudden he feels heavier than before. My body weighted and hyper-aware of where we touched. “I really want to do more then kiss you.” He says, somehow quieter. 

And I can’t help it. I’m pulled, drawn by the thread that has always and will always tie us together. “I still meant everything I said.”

“I know.” 

“And I still think we should take a break.” 

“Okay.” 

I smile against his mouth. “Now you’re agreeing to agree.” But Sora doesn’t answer, he closes the gap kissing me with a ferocity Id missed. He kisses me as if he could mend me with his mouth. As if he could put me back together with his hands. As if he could anchor me to him with his body. 

And I get lost, the way I always do, in loving him. 

We discard shirts and then shorts and feel each other out with our fingertips, drawing the others body as maps for our memories to follow at a later date. Kissing and holding and touching. 

Body against body. Mouth against mouth. Heart against heart. 

We don’t do much. Not really. But it feels like so much, for so long to feel him without the express purpose of an orgasm. It was, perhaps, the most intimate night we’d ever had. 

I know, too, that Sora wants me inside and I want to be inside but I don’t want to ruin the purity of this moment with pain. Any at all. So instead I try to steady him with my hands and satisfy with my fingers and mouth. 

Sora kisses me all over. The space between my shoulder blades, both of my elbows, the stray freckle I have on the nub of my ankle.  
I kiss Sora all over. Behind his ears. The prominent bruise on his abdomen. The silver scar on his knee. 

Until we lay side by side in the darkness where we hold each other and we cry, whispering back and forth. “I really, really love you.” The words are a jumble of emotions, some I don’t know how to process. Knowing that on this night I’ll let them in only to kick them out in the morning. 

Then I’m blinking day light from my eyes. Here it was. The day I was leaving the islands by myself because I had asked to do everything alone. 

Sora meets my gaze with watery eyes. “Morning.” He says, with a pathetic attempt at a smile. 

I pull him into my chest and kiss him, letting last night linger between us. 

My bedroom door swings open followed by a short sharp. “Oh!” 

Sora pushes himself to one elbow, as I grab a sheet and lay it across us. 

“Roxas?” Sora says confused. “Why are you here?” 

“Just dropping off some clothes, I didn’t figure you’d want to wear swim trunks to the port.” 

“We live next door, you wanted to walk in on us you perv.” 

I laugh, that sounded about right. 

Roxas playfully puts his hands up, a half smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe. Are you two…okay?” 

Sora is crestfallen all at once. “We’re taking a break.” He says looking down at me and I nod in confirmation, squeezing one of his hands. 

“But you’re naked?” Roxas says, somewhat bewildered. 

“Speaking of. Get out.” Sora says. 

“Yeah…Riku your mom wants you down by six thirty. Fair warning, everyone’s down there.” 

I had ten minutes left.

“Get. Out!” Sora says again much more firmly, to which Roxas rolls his eyes and leaves the room, closing the door softly shut behind him.

We immediately go back to kissing. Take a break? I did not want to take a break. I didn’t want to get on that ship. I didn’t want to go  
anywhere. Say goodbye? How did you say goodbye to forever?

I am such a joke. 

In five minutes I attempt to sit up and Sora wrangles me back to bed. In two more minutes I stand, having to drag Sora with me. I sit him on the edge of the bed and shower him in kisses. Then I kneel and take both his hands in mine. 

“I’m not abandoning you or leaving you behind.” I tell him. “I’m not forgetting. And I promise I won’t disappear.” 

“No lies, no secrets.” He tells me shakily. 

“No lies, no secrets.” I confirm. 

Sora cups my face in his hands, holding back tears. “I thought you were going to blow me.” I burst out laughing, how anyone could say such a thing in such a sad tone was beyond me. “That was better though.” 

I get to my feet and hold out a hand. “Come on.” He takes it and allows me to pull him up. 

Breakfast whirls by, and the car ride and the walk to my gate. A series of blurs and blinks and then I am there, standing with my small entourage of people who have come to say goodbye. 

My mother hands me an itinerary, but she’s already emailed me this exact document. I know she just wants to give me something, so I hug her fiercely. “I’ll be okay.” I tell her. 

“Of course you will.” My mother lifts her chin, in defiance to the idea that I would ever be anything other then okay. “I know you will.” 

“I’ll call once I’m settled.” 

The Harts all wish me well in their own way. Mostly with hugs and exuberant proclamations of goodbye. See you soon. Come to visit. 

Then I’m standing in front of Sora. He’s a wreck, exactly like he promised he’d be. He pushes the palms of his hands into his eyes and mumbles. “Sorry.” 

I take one of his wrists and pull away one of the hands obscuring his face. “I’m really, really going to miss you.” 

Sora steps forward, putting his arms around my shoulders and holding on tightly. 

“Cry baby.” I tease him. 

“Robot.” He counters. 

I chuckle, and then press my cheek into his hair and sigh.

“Gods. You’re going to be great. You’re going to blow everyone away. You’re going to do…so much good art." Sora tells me, sobbing.  
"Are you trying to be encouraging?” 

“What am I supposed to say? Don’t go, stay with me? I hope you hate it and beg to come home?” Sora squeezes and I squeeze back. “Will any of those things make you stay?” 

“No.” 

“What about…lets elope and run away?” 

I laugh softly, what a turn that would be. “Nope.” 

“What about…?” 

“Sora, hush, you act like I’m dying. We’re not going to never see each other again.” But in a way, it did feel like that. Like I was on my death bed, getting in one last goodbye before I flat lined. In my last moments with him I could decide how I wanted to be remembered. Even though Id promised him, multiple times, Id call him that night. “Can I…?” I start, and then catch the gazes of our small funeral party. “Ah, never mind.” 

“You can kiss me.” He says. 

And I do. I kiss his ears and cheeks and chin wanting our last moments to be remembered like this. 

Then a voice overhead clicks on and lets my ship know its time to board. 

“I’ll call you tonight.” I promise, even though Id already said this exact thing. 

“I love you.” He breathes, a hitch in his throat. 

“I love you too.” I say, laying my forehead against his. 

Then in a series of blinks and footsteps I’m abord my ship, leaving the islands behind. 

~.~ 

You We’re Good To Me – Jeremy Zucker


	18. The Old Friend

The Old Friend 

When I step into the heart of Twilight Town U I am overwhelmed. Not only because I left Sora less then two hours ago. Not only because I have no clue where anything is, and the campus seems eerily quiet with something new around every corner. And not only because I am going to live here for the next hour months and anything could happen in that time. 

As I walk around the nervousness I feel is swept up in excitement. An art school. I can feel it in the air. Classes haven’t even started yet and there are installations in every corridor. Sculptures at every corner. Doorways draped in yarn, wire and various other items. Each wall a mural of varying success. Each door a different color. A place where students were constantly trying to make their mark, so the space was marked up and re-marked up. Years and years of overlap, of people trying to be seen and remain seen through their art.

Some of it seemed pointless. Some of it exhilarated me. And the prospect of that alone was incredible. 

Other art students! Not that I was particularly fond of egotistical maniacs, but I did love artists. I like them, or at least, I hope I do. I thought I might. To be in a room and hear the buzz of creation all around me. To be able to voice the frustrations about inspiration or even about trivial things—a poorly made brush, or a strange assignment. 

Every one of the islands, for the most part, took art classes to get an elective credit and had never taken it all that seriously. 

I was looking forward to my new classes, even though they were ones I wouldn’t have ever picked. And even the mystery was exciting.   
I stumble across the admissions office mostly by accident and am given my freshman packet, keys, and various other items. Lastly I am given a map and set free. I have to ask one of the few students milling about but then set myself in the direction of my dorm. It is a fairly large building, all stairs and no elevator. It is the same brick work as every other building. Though it is further out, surrounded by a bit more greenery, even in the winter. 

I trudge up to the top floor and find my room. I am amazed. Both rooms combined are smaller than my bedroom back home. The only furnishings I have are a twin sized bed, a desk, and a wall closet. The bathroom is standard, toilet, sink, shower stall and tiny.   
True to her word, my mother had everything sent ahead of me and I begin to unpack the boxes at my feet. It takes less time then I think it will, even after I order a few extra things to fill the space. 

I’m itching to call Sora, to tell him about the smallness of my room. The twin bed. The tiny windows. The square shower. All the bad tings first, but its not even noon. Id have nothing good to tell him. 

With a little research I would have known that classes don’t actually start until the middle of next week. I had five whole days to get very familiar with the campus. As Id come in Id seen only a couple freshman activities. Since this was the spring semester, full of returning students, I didn’t think there would be many. Fall was for introducing new students to the school. 

Not that I would probably go to those things anyway. 

Or I wasn’t sure if I would. Sora’s freshman year was when Id planned to participate. With his eager exuberance to experience everything Id be able to coast on his high. To count on his social expertise, to know he’d cover when I was socially exhausted, which he never got but understood. I didn’t know how to do any of this by myself. 

What would I even do at one of those events? Stand around? Get weirdly hostile? And for most people, telling them you were burnt out and didn’t want to talk anymore counted as hostile. 

I didn’t know how to be anyone other then that. The only chameleon I knew was Axel and he’s not someone I even liked thinking about. Even though he’d stood off to the side of my goodbye a few hours ago. He’d held Roxas’ hand the whole time—show off. 

Axel’s boyfriend was actually his boyfriend, and they’d been two separate people until they met and weren’t anymore. Id been Riku and Sora my whole life. I was no longer Riku and…I was only Riku, and I wasn’t really sure what that meant. 

Was Riku a person who went to freshman events? 

What did I want to do? 

Currently? I want to stay locked in my room until it is an appropriate time to call Sora. 

But the idea is just too pathetic, plus what would I have to report? Id have nothing to say. So I get up and decide to find all my classes and get a good route to each. Explore the studio places and outdoor installations. I can’t stay confined to my room, I remind myself, because my mother will hear about it and pay someone to show me around. 

I can do this. There weren’t even that many students out yet. Id done this one the islands, I could do it here. 

When I’m heading down the stairs a family is heading up. I slink to the side of the staircase and let them pass. I can only hear a little of their conversation, but they sound happy. Maybe I should have let my mom come, because then, at the very least, I could have been more annoyed with her and less annoyed with myself. 

“Riku?” I hear an incredulous voice say. A familiar voice. A voice I haven’t heard in months and never in a million years would have expected to hear here. My eyes settle of a very confused redhead, and a less-openly confused blonde. 

“Kairi? Namine?” I say, stupidly. 

The whole parties stopped in the stairwell to stare at me. Until their parents greet me and start moving again, forcing Kairi and Namine to move with them. I follow, more out of wonder that there are people I know here. People I really know. One person I used to consider a best friend. 

I stand outside Namine’s room until Kairi comes back out, staring wide-eyed at me. 

“You cut your hair.” She breathes. 

I roll my eyes, or course. I only remembered my short hair in the shower, or when I tried to put it up, or someone asked me incredulously why Id cut it. “Why are you here?” I ask.

“Me? Why are you here?” 

“I asked first.” 

Its her turn to roll her eyes. “I’m moving Nam back in.” I look into the glaringly white room. White pillows, white couch, white bedspread. Same for the white washed girl who always stayed behind with Roxas when the three of us when on our adventures.

I’d known she’d transferred somewhere, and I knew it was an art school. Id thought it was a private high school. Namine was talented enough for those competitive environments. I’d been too focused on my own college admissions that I hadn’t really listened to Kairi. In fact, Id resented her. Her twin moving away was another thing for her and Sora to bond over. 

“She’s been going to college?” I ask, again stupidly. 

“I knew you never listened to me.” Kairi playfully chides and I smile at her. “It was their plan remember? Her and Roxas? Graduate early, move to twilight town, be together, but then they broke up.” 

“They broke up in December. Why’d she still come?” 

“Because,” Kairi whispers. “She thought that by being close Roxas would come back to her, like he always did, but then he…” 

“Met Axel.” 

“I was going to say, came out, but that works too.” Then Kairi has a realization and looks around wildly, panic in her eyes. “Where is he?”

I put my hands in my pockets and give her a close-lipped smile. “Its just me.” 

Kairi pokes me in the chest. “No Sora? Can you answer me now? Why are you here?” 

I wince slightly at the mention of his name. No Sora. No Sora indeed. I shrug at her. “I transferred her for the semester. Maybe for longer—I don’t know yet.” 

“But—Sora?” 

“Its my life.” I tell her, remembering what she’d said to be that day on the bleachers. 

Kairi simply continues her bug-eyed charade and then turns around. “Nam, you hate it when I touch your stuff anyway, can I go to lunch with Riku, please?” Its just like her to ask her sister and not me if I want to go to lunch. 

Namine speaks quietly but hostilely. “As long as you don’t tell him anymore of my sad story.” 

“Sorry Nam. Its Riku, he doesn’t care about all that stuff. Plus he’s the one with the biggest unrequited love problem.” Ouch, I think, but Namine gives her sister a cold glare and then shoo’s her out of the room. 

Kairi bobs over to me. “You been to the food court yet?” She asks with a wry smile. 

“Nope.” I tell her, “Lead the way.” So much for doing everything on my own, but its so good to see a familiar face, even if the last time I saw her it was very up close. Had I forgiven her for that kiss? I didn’t know. I hadn’t thought about that kiss for months, the memory had appeared at the sight of her. Was I still mad? 

Kairi leads me through the back of the co-ed dorms, putting her hood up and once outside scrunching the circle around her face. The same islander aversion to cold Sora had. She takes me through a small maze of stained glass and then through two painted and re-painted double doors. 

As we enter the building the smell of familiar food makes my stomach rumble, we are greeted first by a coffee shop and then an actual food court. Chain restaurants stare back at me as well as the workers manning the stalls. Did the islands have something like this? Id never bothered to explore that campus, but I doubted it. The islands refused as much commercialism as it could manage. 

We separate and then come back together, sitting across from on another in a booth. 

Now what? 

Id never been the two of us. Sora was our glue, the thread that kept me and Kairi friends. He’d cut her off and therefore so had I. The last conversation we’d had, had been because of their break up. 

Kairi swirls a tomato of her fork and it somersaults over some lettuce. “So? Why are you here?” She asks. 

Id been out of focus, looking at the variety of students coming in and out. A place for all kinds of people. Id been looking at the student hung art, and the distinct styles around the café. The people on laptops, and then the ones furiously scribbling. When the semester started this place would always be packed, I could already feel it. 

“I go to school here now. Did you not hear me, like, five minutes ago?” I finally answer her, watching a boy long board outside. 

“Why?” 

“Its my top school. You know that.” 

“What about Sora?” 

“He’s going to Hollow Bastian starting in the summer.” 

Kairi waves an annoyed hand. “You’re being evasive.” Then her face pinches and her eyes grow big and sad. “Is this my fault? Riku, you have to tell me the truth, okay? Did that kiss ruin everything?” 

I almost choke on the fries Id been picking at. “Ruin what?” 

“You and Sora, stupid. I…thought that if Sora could see that you weren’t going to be single forever that he’d do something, you know? Go for it. Figure it out with you.” 

I decide to play stupid. “Why would Sora do anything?” 

Kairi frowns at me. “Why didn’t you do anything? That’s really why you’re here isn’t it? Because you think there’s no future with Sora.” She was almost right, but for the completely wrong reasons. “You’re wrong. I shouldn’t tell you this but Sora’s never going to talk to me again anyway so…he was having dreams about you. He thought, maybe, that he was in love with you.” 

I nod thoughtfully, dropping the stupid act. I was never going to be a drama major, that was for sure. 

Kairi tilts her head at me. “You know?” 

“Yeah Kairi. I know.” And I give her a half smile and eat more of my friends my stomach roiling. “Its that really why you kissed me?”   
Kairi nods. “I was bugging Sora about it and he told me he wasn’t going to say anything, and it made me so mad. It was always meant to be you two. I always knew that, but like my sister I was stupidly in love with a gay boy.” 

“To be fair, I don’t think Sora’s gay.” 

“Well he certainly wasn’t into me.” 

I hum, lost in thought. “He wouldn’t have told me? I mean, not that he did really. But he wouldn’t have ever….?” That sucks to learn. I remember how funny Sora had acted after that day, after the kiss, after finding out I had feelings for someone. If I hadn’t made my move, he would have burst. 

“I’m really sorry. I thought you two would do the damn thing and we could all be friends again but…” 

“But then we just stopped talking to you.” I finish for her. 

“Yeah, and you stopped coming to practices and Sora stopped talking about you as much and…now you’re here.” 

“There’s a few more steps, but yeah. Now I’m here.” 

“…will you tell me those steps?” 

I shake my head. “I don’t think Sora will like that.” 

Before I knew it Kairi’s got her phone pressed to her ear, emotionally impulsive. “Hi Sora, yes its been a long time. I know. So I’m helping Nam move back into her dorm and you’ll never guess who I ran into.” Her face twitches and then she coo’s. “Yeah,” softly, “Riku…” Her eyes lock onto me. “Do you like it here do far?” 

“Hang up.” I whisper. “I will call him and tell him later.” 

“Yeah, he’s with me. I don’t know, he looks fine. He just seems so sad, and you sound so sad. What happened? He won’t tell me anything…that actually why I called. I thought if I could get permission…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” 

Kairi wraps an arm around herself. “Don’t hate you? Why would I hate you?”

My pocket buzzes. A text. “You can tell her.” 

“Sora? Hello?” Kairi frowns at me. “He hung up.” 

“He gave you permission, but I think you should here his side before mine. He’s got no one over there. Tidus is crap at emotional stuff and I don’t think he’d tell Tidus anyway. He needs you more than me.” 

“He needs me more then you? Not possible.” 

“I meant; he needs you more then I need you.” Then I look at the suddenly emotion overwhelmed girl before me. “If you’re up for that.”   
“Yeah, of course, but can you at least tell me why you didn’t get together?” 

I look her in the eyes and then away. “We did.” 

~.~ 

I walk Kairi back to her sisters room and then head back up to mind. I have to look up the room number to remember which one it is. Once I’m there I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now and all of a sudden I’m flooded with regret. The emotion hitting me out of nowhere. I can’t escape the dread creeping that I won’t be good here. That it will all have been for nothing. That Sora and Kairi will fall back in love. 

I’ve given them the perfect opportunity to do just that. I’ve encouraged it. ‘Find some girl.’ And Sora would, someday, find a girl he could get it up for. 

What Id told her was true, I didn’t actually think Sora was gay. Bi, maybe. Or pansexual or demisexual, even. Not that Sora would like those labels more then gay, and it’s not like the worlds would see him with me and go, hm, maybe he’s bi. 

I look around my bare room and I regret not bringing anything to put on the walls. In our apartment Id bought a jersey signed by one of Sora’s favorite players and had it framed. Id put it alongside my modern art, and it had fit there. Perfectly mismatched. 

I wish I had anything to add to the space that was beyond necessity. This was not my room, it was a room. A room in a building full of rooms, that many students claimed temporarily, decorating them to reflect themselves. Even Namine with all her white stuffed animals. 

It was hard to sit still, hard to get comfortable here. There would be a party somewhere if I started asking around, somewhere to go, but I didn’t want to ask around. I didn’t want to be with people, I wanted to be with one person. 

So I put my phone to my ear. It rings only once before he answers. 

“Hey,” Sora breathes. 

“Hi,” I say, but its too high, like wind whirling though a hollow tube. I had nothing else to say. 

“So…Kairi knows now?” He asks, voice wobbling. 

“Not all of it.” I concede. “I only told her that we’d been together.” He gives me a deflected ‘oh.’ “I said she should talk to you about it.” I tell him, fiddling with the threads from the hole in my jeans. “Did you know Namine went here, too?” 

“Yeah, didn’t you?” 

“No,” I laugh, more out of awkwardness then humor. “I’m a really shit friend.” 

“That’s not true.” Sora protests, instinct best-friend defense mode coming to the surface. 

“You have a biased opinion and therefore don’t count.” 

“I’ve known you since birth, Id say my opinion counts the most, and you are not a shit friend.” 

‘Then why are you my only one?’ I want to ask him, but the words feel childish just thinking them. “See. Biased.” I say instead. Still childish, but not hurtful. 

“How is it?” He asks, changing the subject. 

“My room is tiny” I tell him. “Don’t know what I expected really.” 

“How tiny?” 

“I have a twin bed and a desk and that most of the room. I can maybe set up my easel in here if I do some rearranging.” 

Sora’s quiet for a moment. “Will I ever get to see it?” 

“Of course you will.” I say, but I’m not sure that’s true. Does it count as a lie if you don’t know that you’re lying? Does it count as a secret if I don’t tell him that I don’t think anything will ever be the same between us? Sora’s quiet again. 

I got on this call to connect with him and I have no idea what to say. We’d said it all last night. “You have my permission too, just so you know. To tell Kairi everything. I’m sure she wont leave you alone until you do anyway.” 

“I guess that’d be nice.” 

“She didn’t try to kiss me this time.” I try to joke. 

“She didn’t try to kiss you last time either.” Sora says, harshly. 

“Hey, you kissed her before me too. And a lot more frequently.” I protest and Sora pouts, even inaudible, I know he’s pouting. “Can you promise me something?” 

“Anything,” he agrees easily. 

“Don’t fall in love with her again. If its anyone else I think I could take it, but not her.” 

Sora sniffles. “I wasn’t in love with her to begin with.” 

I shake my head, unwilling to believe that. “Then don’t fall in love with her at all.” 

I hear Sora put the phone down. I know he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s crying, even if I cant hear this either. When he comes back a moment later his tone is clear. “Can do.” 

I feel twelve. Stranded in an unfamiliar place. I remember the cold one bedroom in that school. How I could only call Sora once a day and even then I had nothing to say, and neither did he. 

Why is this so awkward? 

“So what else?” He asks. 

“What?” 

Sora laughs a little. “Okay. Your room is tiny. What else? What’s it like so far, the school?” 

“Its…” How did I say it right?

“Don’t censor yourself. Just tell me.” 

So I do. I tell him all my first impressions. He only makes a small sound of discomfort when he learns my classes don’t actually start until next week. I feel the ridiculous need to reassure him that I didn’t know, to make sure he knows I wouldn’t have left him this early if I had. 

“What’s the plan until then?” He says.

“Worried I’ll get into too much trouble?” 

“No I’m just trying to keep you on track, I know how much you hate structure.” He teases me. 

I laugh before answering his question. “Explore I guess. I’ll probably take a couple trips into the city and familiarize myself with the trollies. Shop maybe, I don’t have anything for my walls.” 

“I wish I could have gotten you an Ansem painting.” He says, so dejectedly it hurts me.

“Hey, that was the best weekend of my life. I still have no idea what to do for your birthday.”

“Its not a competition, and you’d be winning even if it was.” He pauses. “It was a really good weekend though.” 

“It was the best.” I reiterate. 

We talk back and forth. Its normal conversation but I’m here and he’s there and I feel like my words should be more profound. Or at least more profound then. ‘I’m not sure what I’m going to have for dinner.’ More profound then. ‘When does practice start back up?’ More profound then. ‘What did you get for Christmas?’ 

Something profound to hold onto him, to keep him anchored with me. He’s on the phone but I feel his absence, a Sora shaped hole cut into my life. I didn’t miss him, not exactly, but the ache returns for the thing we’d always had. The guarantee that we’d always be together. 

He’d broken it. 

And Id refused to mend it. 

Eventually, we say goodnight after running out of things to talk about. No I love you. No I miss you. Nothing like that. It feels wrong to say those things when the separation is so fresh. Like a gash, our worlds out of balance. 

I go to sleep without eating. I go to sleep without doing much of anything at all. 

At nine AM there is a small polite knock on my door. I pull on sweatpants and go to answer it. I’m greeted by Namine, fresh-faced and dressed—white baby-doll dress, white coat, white boots. She’d been doing that since we were kids. She was the girl who wore white. It made people say mean things about her. Things like. ‘Kairi’s got all the color’ and someone would respond. ‘Yeah and all the personality.’ Kairi had made herself standout, Namine just stuck out, haunting every room with her ghostly visage. 

It made me wonder what I was. 

The boy who…what? Had silver hair, maybe. The boy who was Sora’s friend was more likely. 

Roxas had a vibe too. He wore black and white. When they were together he’d worn all black to even her out, or to mourn the life he really wanted. I didn’t really know which.

Namine gives me a weak smile. “Want to eat breakfast with me?” 

“Did Kairi put you up to this?” I ask point blank. 

She nods. “Yeah. She told me you’re heartbroken.” 

“That bitch.” 

Namine crosses her arms. “I was heartbroken too, once. It does get better, you know.” Then she sighs. “Have you been to the cafeteria.”

“The food court?” 

“No. The cafeteria. You should have a meal card.” 

“Uhm.” I pull out the binder they’d given me upon entry. “This?” I ask, pulling a card with a magnetic strip. Instead of answering she pulls her own card—identical to mine. 

Then she shakes her head, some of her blonde bangs falling in her eyes. “They had better orientations in the fall. Spring semester has very few freshman activities.” She tells me, confirming what I thought about the sheer lack of students in the free week. 

“Oh no, how will I ever go on?” I say, sarcastically, pulling out clothes to change into. 

“I was subjected to all of them. Its only fair you go to some of them.” I give her a look. “I’ll go with you, you big baby.” 

My knee jerk reaction is to say no. I always say no. Is Sora coming? And if not, then no. Socializing was not my favorite. Not that I was necessarily bad at it. I just didn’t like it. It was easier to be alone. 

“Yeah, that’d be cool. Even if it’s just pity, that’s really nice of you.” 

Namine smiles smugly. “I’m a saint. Aren’t you going to change? Or are you wearing pjs?” 

“Yeah.” I tell her, as she sits on the edge of my bed. How am I supposed to change with her in here? “Hold on.” And I take my items to the bathroom. 

Namine gives me a funny look. “Aren’t you gay?” 

“Yes.” I tell her after a pause. My natural reaction on the islands would have been to deny it, coolly and calmly, but I wasn’t on the islands and I was gay. “But you aren’t.” 

This she considers. “Fair point.” 

My outfit is very bland compared to hers. Black jeans, low cut shirt, fitted jacket. It doesn’t look coordinated or like an outfit. They were clothes, put on a body. No style. Nothing that stuck out. I want to be more then the boy who wore black, because from what id seen. All the boys wore black. 

We go to breakfast and I discover the cafeteria. That word made me think of high school. Of rectangular tables and florescent lights and garbage food. This was more like a café with different daily options. A buffet style counter, with a coffee counter and cereal bar. 

There were more students milling around today, but not enough that we have to fight for a table. We slide into a booth, the large window over looking the plaza. We collectively people watch, eating our breakfast. 

Namine point a lazy finger around her coffee mug. “Drama kids, they start rehearsing now. Its wild.” Then her finger moves to the people strumming various instruments around the fountain. “Music majors. They’ll only get louder.” Then she eyes me form across the table. “What’s your thing?” 

“I’m an art major.” 

“Duh. What’s your thing?” 

“Painting I guess?” 

“That’s everyone’s thing here.” 

Ouch. “Fine. What’s your thing?” I say defensibly. 

“Abstract minimalism. Crayon medium. But I dabble.” 

I had nothing so concrete. I like to create, but with anything. Pastels I used because they were easy. Paint I used because it was accessible. Though I wouldn’t call either of those things my thing. The thing that made my art mine.

“I’m transferring out next year though,” she says quietly. “I love this school, but I really want to do art therapy for people with memory loss. For that you need a psychology degree.” 

Art for something. Art for a purpose. Art for therapy. It’d always been therapeutic for me but I’d never thought of it in such terms, and never for anyone other then myself. 

“Really?” I ask her, sad that I might be losing her friendship if I decide to stay. “Where?” 

“Hollow Bastian.” 

“That’s the big one.” I say with a half-smile. 

Namine nods. “Biggest college around.” She says, and we smile at each other. Hollow Bastian was a bit of everything college. Any major, and it was quite literally the biggest college around. Some class buildings weren’t even on campus but instead scattered throughout the city for the more, hands on majors. 

Over the next couple of days Namine is true to her word. The school holds two tours. A get to know you, ice-breaker session, and a club fair. The tours are informative, turning the buildings on my map into real places. The get to know you activity is awkward and strange, until Namine switches name tags with me and its suddenly fun introducing myself as someone new. The club fair is massive—they have everything from cosplay to a Blitzball team and everything in between. No one-dimensionality. Though there is plenty of that too. Since there are four book clubs and two dedicated to coffee. I take a flyer from everyone; I want to try everything on. 

At the end of the week I have a lot of things to tell Sora. And I get to look at him since we finally figured out we could talk through our webcams. This is as close to face to face as we’ll get for a while. 

I tell him everything, sparing no detail. About how people still come up to me asking if I’m Namine. How some of the art installations are being taken down. How the campus is now crawling with people and my dorm is unbearably loud sometimes. 

He has a lot to share with me too. He’s had to start a diet. He goes on swims every morning. Then finally he holds up his new re-breather, a gift from the Besaid Aurochs—the team he’ll be joining in the summer. “Profession equipment!” He gushes excitedly. “The guys will be so jealous.” 

Sora’s happy face wounds me and I turn to look out the window only to get truly distracted. There’s little flurries of white falling form the sky. Swirling with the wind. It’s bizarre and magical and, I imagine, cold. 

“Riku? Are you listening to me?” 

“What?” I say, coming back to him. “Sorry. Its…uh, its snowing.” 

Sora’s face transforms into that look I used to be so accustomed too, that amazed look. It’d been buried under so much sadness I wasn’t sure if Id ever see it again. 

“What?” He asks when my face falls. 

I shake my head slowly. “I wish you were here.” I look outside, unable to meet his eyes. “It doesn’t look like it does on T.V. Its more…I don’t know how to describe it. Its melting as soon as it hits the ground.” When I look back to him, he’s got tears in his eyes. “Sorry.” I mumble, hating myself for being the thing that upset him. 

“You look happy. Its been a long time since you looked like that. I’m glad.” But his sobs tell me something else. That my being happy wounds him, but unlike me he doesn’t shy away from the pain it brings him. He cries. Its right then I know Sora will heal faster then I will. His life will go on without me, just as mine will go on without him. The idea of it already hurts a little less then it would have at the beginning of my stay. 

“Id be happier if you were here.” I tell him gently, because its true. Because I can’t lie to him. 

When he smiles at me I know he does believe me, and I want to say more, but Sora tells me goodnight and closes his laptop. Leaving me with an ended call icon, my reflection wincing at me in the black screen. 

The snow does stick. There’s a layer of white covering everything before I know it. All those flecks building little by little. 

Namine busts into my room, she no longer knocks. “Its snowing!” 

“I know!” I forget sometimes that she’s an islander too, and that seasons must excite her as much as they excite me. 

“Let’s go out.” 

And I get out in the snow and watch my breath frost out in front of me. Its cold, amazingly cold. So cold it stiffens my posture and sticks to my face. Namine’s nose is red already and mine must be the same. 

Out of nowhere Namine takes my hand. 

“Uhm. Nam. You know I’m not into you like that, right?” 

She shoves me with her shoulder but doesn’t let go. “And you know I’m done being in love with gay boys. You looked like you needed someone to hold your hand, that’s all.” 

“I look that bad huh?” 

“Kairi and I have been comparing notes.” I flick my eye brow up at her. “He loves you and you love him, so…” 

Namine doesn’t say anything else, she stands holding my hand, as tears freeze on my face. 

~.~ 

I miss you, Im sorry – Gracie Abrams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. This is a lot later then I had planned. And Im really really sorry about that. My job has been crazy busy and I'm just now settling into my new apartment. 
> 
> Also its a long wait for not much to happen but I need to set some stuff up and answer some questions and get Kairi back in the story. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for commenting and leaving kudos as always! I love you all so much.


	19. The New Friend

The New Friend -

Early mornings were growing on me. The routine of getting up and having some time to myself before starting my day was a piece of structure Id been missing. I spent less time waking up or wishing that I was still asleep. The mornings a repeat cycle of sit with Namine and watch the ever-growing population of students and drink a cup of coffee for its intended purpose—to wake me up instead of keep me awake. 

Today however, everything changes. 

First of the docket is Intro to Graphic Design, a beginning class for a medium I have never considered—digital. 

Namine doesn’t join me at breakfast. I drink my coffee slowly, though I know she’s not an over sleeper and if she’s not here, she’s not coming. It stings more than a little, especially since I hadn’t considered myself a temp, a placeholder until her real friends arrived. I try to remind myself that I can’t fall into the old and tired repetition of latching onto one person and make myself eat. 

I’m incredibly early to my first class. The room is small with six square tables. I pick one uninhabited and sit down. Anxious for time to catch up with me. 

I doodle nervously, making non-sensical patterns in my sketchbook until I’m brought out of my spacing by a light shove. A gangly boy bumps me with his oversized instrument case, sliding into the seat next to me. Band T-shirt, ripped acid-washed jeans, and a dirty blonde mullet mumble sorry at me. I never thought a mullet would suit someone, but it fits him. 

Then I notice the other boy across from me, he’s heavy set, wearing a sports jersey with a polaroid camera around his neck. Did everyone have props? Here’s this thing to tell you one thing about me? Then I look down and my sketchbook and kick myself for being a hypocrite. 

My sketches turn more concrete, shaping images of the world around me. 

“Hi,” The blonde says, his voice gravelly and soft at the same time; melodic but simple. “I’m Demyx.” 

I give him a short nod. “Riku.” 

His eyes wander down, and his mouth turns down in an impressed frown. I look for too, Id unconsciously started drawing him. I quickly move on, filling the blank spaces with doodles of a heavy camera, but my hand automatically returns to the mullet and his fair, elvish features. 

The professor is late. This is new for me. Would the professor really not show up on the first day of class? Panic sets in, manifesting in a bouncing knee. The other students are unbothered, sipping on paper cups of coffee I’m not sure should be allowed in a computer class. But even that doesn’t seem to upset anyone, even with the amount of open laptops around the room. I am the only one with paper and pencil, the only one not staring fixedly at a screen, except for Demyx who is staring fixedly at me. 

I quietly draw and the blonde keeps staring. I look up to tell him off but am caught off guard by the color of his eyes. Brown eyes, but a golden yellow bright color. Unnerving, just like my eye color. 

“What?” I bark at him, shifting in my seat. 

“You’re a fine art major.” He says firmly, not a question. 

“Yes?” 

Demyx smiles. “You’re really good—that looks just like me.” He elbows the boy with the camera. “Pence doesn’t that look just like me?” 

Pence shifts and eyes my sketch; he must take not of the one of him but doesn’t comment. “Yeah man, it does.” He says, in a clearly uninterested tone. I knew as well as he did, that every fine art major was just as good as I was. “You think Mr. Z is going to show or what?” 

Demyx shrugs. “Its just how he is. He doesn’t like icebreakers.” 

“Isn’t that, like, his job, though?” I interject, actively trying to make myself part of the conversation. 

“You would know,” Pence replies, speaking to Demyx as if I hadn’t said anything at all. I go back to doodling. Then Pence turns to me, smirking. “This is Dem’s second go at this class.” 

“Really?” I ask, flicking my eyebrows up in mild surprise. 

The blonde shifts, more fidgety then Sora. “I’m bad at art stuff. And computer stuff—all the brushes and buttons and filters.” He taps his forehead. “Doesn’t compute.” 

“Why do it twice then?” I point to his large instrument. “You’re a music major.” 

Demyx blushes, a light pink dusting his cheekbones, when Sora blushes it is a fierce and vibrant red. “I have this zine, and its not really any good, and its never going to be any good if the graphics don’t suck. And no one will help me.” The last bit he aims at Pence. 

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Everyone has a zine Dem, there’s hundreds on campus. Its not exactly a novel idea—none of them are any good.” 

“Don’t I know. That’s why I’m actually trying. Plus mine is for the queers, not that you’d understand it anyway.” 

“Hey, my two best friends are gay. Id understand.” 

Demyx and I roll our eyes at the same time and Demyx shoots a half smile my way, catching something I hadn’t meant to let free. My heart race picks up, why did being out have to be this stressful? Even in an art school where Demyx could talk about queer zine’s and plenty of same sex couples had zero problems with PDA, this was hard. Id come out officially exactly three times, and I hated that it wasn’t a one and done situation. 

I wince, waiting for Demyx to make a fuss, but he doesn’t. The mulleted make-upped loud-looking boy is quiet, pursing his lips in contemplation. 

“Can I see it?” I interject, before Demyx can say anything else. “Your zine, can I see?” 

“Sure,” Demyx lights up at the idea, pulling up a bag covered in various pins. He extracts a thing that is exactly as Pence described it. Images and pages and print outs cobbled together, and not very good. The word Tracks in rainbow letters, emboldened at the top just out at me. “Tracks: because music, and the railroad.” Demyx explains, misreading my drawn eyebrows. 

“That’s really bad.” I say, and watch Demyx retreat into himself, as if I had asked to see just to have an opportunity to be mean. He pulls the pile of papers away, and I over compensate. “What about something like…” My fingers move, attempting to catch up with my mind. I draw a set of train tracks with music notes along the staff. “Hm. No.” And I try again with a small train car, blowing out music notes. I frown down at my sketchbook. “That’s not quite right either, buts it’s a cool idea, just the graphics are bad.” 

Demyx has returned to staring at me. “You’re amazing. Those are so good are you kidding? You did that in like two seconds! What the hell?” 

I feel my face get hot at his genuine outburst. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, you could…” But Demyx doesn’t get to finish, disrupted by the very late Mr. Z taking the head of the class. 

“I assume that was enough time to introduce yourselves?” The man asks, and the class collaboratively nods. “Okay then, lets get started.” 

And we do. Mr. Z talks in broad concepts of what we will learn, correct, and create. Projects that will test our skills. Our abilities to use our tools and communicate our ideas. There’s a hum in my heart even when he starts assigning us homework. The application of an idea and getting that idea across in a simple, uncomplicated way—it calls to me, it makes my fingers itch. 

It was an intriguing puzzle. 

My mind working through the current and future projects I am able to put Sora away for minutes at a time. 

When the two hours end I feel slightly buzzed, endless what ifs racing around each other in my head, but not in a way that stresses me out. I walk, dazed, from the classroom in the direction of my dorm. I barley register the tug on my sleeve, and I spin to face Demyx. He gives me a half apologetic smile, adjusting his too-big instrument. 

“What is that thing?” I ask, before he even gets the chance to get out what it is he’s stopped me for. 

“It’s a Sitar.” Demyx beams with pride just saying the word. 

That was interesting. “Cool.” I say, with genuine inflection. “Did you need something?” 

He smiles again, a real smile. “We’re having a party. Me and my roommate. Would you want to come?” 

By his sheepish demeanor you’d think he’d just asked me on a date. Had he? Was the party pretense for a date? My dating had been very limited, winded dinners and bedroom bursts. And Sora—but that was different. I ponder for a moment if I should tell him I’m kind of seeing someone. Kind of being the imperative word. I was also kind of not seeing someone. 

And I still didn’t have any friends, my heart pinching at the recall of my breakfast alone. Demyx, and his party seemed like my best in. At least then I could tell Sora Id been to a party, found common interests, gotten drunk, did party…things. Gods, I didn’t even really know what that meant. It scared me. But to know, I had to agree to go. 

It didn’t hurt that Demyx was attractive, as different as he was. 

“Sure,” I say casually, and then after a too-long pause. “Where?” 

“I’ll give you my number, so I can text you time and address and everything.” He says, easily, Friendly. I will myself not to overanalyze as I hand over my phone. He puts in his number and texts himself. “Okay.” He says, handing my phone back to me. “I’ll text you.” He repeats with a light rose blush. 

“Cool.” I say again, monosyllabic and frozen. On the friendly, flirty scale that was definitely flirty, right? 

Demyx waves goodbye, biting his lower lip and eyeing me up and down. Way flirty. 

When I make it back to my room Namine is there, leaning up again the door. I enter without acknowledging her. The pinch in my heart won’t allow me to mutter even a hello. It doesn’t deter her from following me in, laying back on my bed and huffing out a large Kairi-sized sigh. 

I sit at my desk, currently unbothered by Namine’s theatrics. Replaying the party invitation. I hadn’t agreed to a date, had I? 

Nam sits up on her elbows and huffs again. I ignore her and check my course schedule. My next class was in an hour—painting. The only class I would have chosen myself. I’d get a studio space, set up my easel, and paint. I couldn’t wait. Id been getting by with my sketches and pastels, but painting settled my heart and I needed that today. 

Namine kicks my chair with her white boot, spinning me to face her. He angry face fills my vision, her bright blonde eyebrows drawn. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

Was I? “Why would I be?” 

“Because it looks like I ditched you.” 

“You’ve done your duty to Kairi. I don’t expect you to shelter me through the whole semester.” I tell her, meaning it as a half thank you and half we don’t have to pretend anymore. I was letting her off the hook. 

“You really think that?” She barks, and I run a hand through my hair shrugging. “You have a communication problem.” 

I scoff. “You could have at least texted.” 

“You would have read into that too.” 

“Wouldn’t you? If this person you thought was your friend ditches you?” I yell, using the word she used since it was the most apt. It fit the pinch in my heart perfectly. 

“I didn’t mean to! Marly and Dem were crazy late. I wanted to introduce you to my friends.” 

“Dem?” I ask, distracted, and Namine tilts her head in question. “He’s in my graphic design class.” I answer, Pence had also called Demyx Dem, with a level of familiarity Namine shared. 

“He’s trying that again? Did he show you his zine?” She draws out the word like it alone is a piece of juicy gossip. 

“Tracks?” I say to confirm. And Namine nods. “The idea is cool. The rest…not so much.” 

“That’s a musician thing I think. Designing your own shitty album art or T shirt design instead of trusting an artist to do the job.” Namine trails off and the presents me with a sly smile. “What do you think of Dem?” 

I shrug. “He’s alright.” 

The arch in her eyebrow shows she knows I think he’s attractive; ripped jeans, mullet and all. “He’s a slut.” She tells me matter of factly. 

I consider that, images flashing that aren’t exactly unpleasant. “I’m not looking for anything serious.” But as I say the words, Sora’s face pops up, the act of holding his hand and kissing the smooth skin. Was is a lie or an unfinished sentence? I wasn’t looking for anything serious with anyone who wasn’t Sora. 

“I think he is though. I think he thinks that love is sex. That he’ll throw himself in the right bed one day. And he might think the right bed is yours. Dem is sweet and kind. I don’t want him to get hurt when you can’t give him more then sex, okay? Unless you’re not going to get back with Sora?” 

The idea hurt me, not being with Sora one day. In a small, stupid way it hurt that we weren’t together right now. And though I had gone from getting some pretty much daily to getting reacquainted with my hand I didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially not the boy I loved most. 

I shake my head. “Sora is my one.” I tell her quietly. “Ill tell Demyx I’m seeing someone if he gets too flirty.” Then I remember that I am still kind of mad at her and I huff, annoyed with myself. “Next time text me. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” 

Namine smiles and flops back. “You won’t.” 

~.~ 

Demyx’s apartment is small. It’s made smaller by the amount of people circled up into groups. Somehow everyone already has a red solo cup. That, at least, is similar to high school parties, to the point of clique.   
What’s distinctly new is the smell. Similar to skunk but more pervasive, like they were trying to hot box the whole apartment—maybe even the whole floor. 

I’m wildly out of place, even just standing in the door frame. I know how to do this, don’t I? Parties were parties. It couldn’t be that different, but as I stepped around the tight groups, everything froze with one thought—I have no idea what I am doing. The main different is there is no brunette pulling me towards any particular circle of people. As I listen there are three conversations I can join, but every time I move to enter, the circle seems to close. 

“Riku!” A voice says behind me, and I turn, thankful to see Demyx—his mullet somehow more outrageous then before. “You made it!” 

“Yeah,” I say lamely, sticking my hands in my pockets. 

“Do you want a drink?” He yells inching closer. 

“Sure—” I try to say, but he interrupts me. 

“Or, if you prefer…a smoke?” 

This takes me by surprise, not that it should, this party is obviously a mix of drinkers and smokers. Nor is weed any more offensive then alcohol, in a lot of ways it was less offensive. But its never been offered to me before. Sora’s scholarship teetered if he participated in underage drinking. If weed was ever, ever found in his system he could lose everything he’d been building, or so he’d been told. 

Sora wasn’t here, though, so it was on the table. 

“A smoke.” I decide, and Demyx’s eyes widen in shock, but the smile playing at his lips is pleased. 

Demyx leads me to what I can only assume is his bedroom, considering the sheer amount of band posters turning the walls into a fire hazard. I am about to roast his CD collection, because who still had a CD collection, when he hands me a blue wave bong and a lighter. I hold the two items in my hands trying to remember what I had seen of this action on T.V. Light the bowl and then…breathe…in…right? 

“Hey,” I say turning to Demyx. “Don’t laugh, but I’ve never done this before.” 

“Ooo a first timer.” This excites him and I don’t know why. “How old are you anyway?” He asks, taking the bong from me. 

“Nineteen.” 

“Oof.” He says. 

“Why?” I say, bristling. “How old are you?” 

“Twenty-two.” 

“You don’t look it.” 

Demyx scoffs before taking a hit, and I watch him closely. Him making the movements slowly for my sake, but its obvious he’s done this a few times. “Its three years. Am I supposed to have gray hair? Or a cane?” Then he pauses. “Canes are pretty sick, maybe I should get a cane?” 

I breathe out a laugh as he passes me back the bong and I copy his example. The smoke hits the back of my throat and sends me into a coughing fit. Demyx waits me out without judgement, before handing me a glass of water. 

“That’s terrible.” 

“You get used to it.” He shrugs, as he repacks the bowl. “Try again and try to hold in the smoke for as long as you can.” 

I still cough, but this time Demyx takes the bong from me and sets it down, leading me back to the party with his hand in my hand. Sora’s hands are soft. Demyx’s calloused, his fingers marred by his dedication. 

Was I high already?

After twenty minters the answer had been no, and now was yes. The feeling was pleasant, a deep elevation in my bones. It slowed my endless thoughts, which was nice. Demyx describes it as a body high after I tell him, laughing that I’ve never been this relaxed in my life. 

The party is fun, but not as fun as Id hoped it would be. The people I’m introduced to are nice though Marluxia, Demyx’s roommate, not-so subtly gives me the side eye. Everyone else is happy to include me in their conversations, but afterward I couldn’t repeat back what it was we talked about. I feel unburdened with my usual need to over analyze actions and plan my reaction. 

There is a tiny nagging in my chest that grows as the night goes on. I’m having a good time, even as Demyx sits possibly too-close to me. And dances to close to me. And says things too close to my ear. I take two more trips to the bedroom until I am so high my brain feels like mush, but in the best way. 

“Are you looking for someone?” Demyx asks. 

I am, I realize. Id been scanning the remaining crowd for him, as if somehow he would be here, and I could call him over and fill out the other half of my good feeling. I knew it now; the nagging nudge was Sora. My body knew his loss so acutely, in a way my mind normally shielded me from. 

“A friend,” I tell him. “But they aren’t here.” 

“They’re more then welcome…” 

“No. They aren’t in Twilight Town.” Demyx cocks his head to the side. “Wishful thinking.” I explain, and Demyx watches my face carefully his face twisting in confusion. 

We end up on the balcony, there’s just enough room to lay down and look up at the stars. Its cold but invigorating. Its quiet but my thoughts didn’t come swimming back in. The moon is so small and reminds me of home. 

“Hey Riku,” I hum, content to never move again. “Hey,” he says again. I turn my head towards him. He was so close. I can feel his breath on my face, his wild golden-brown eyes searching mine. I wish he wasn’t so close, but then he only gets closer, and I turn my head back to look up, his lips finding purchase on my cheek. Demyx recoils, and my second hand embarrassment is so strong I sit up, brushing a hand through my hair. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, remaining on his back. 

“Its okay,” I tell him. “I should have told you about Sora.” 

“Your…boyfriend?” 

“Yeah,” I tell him, not giving to much thought to the complicated bits. I was faithful to him and would be until he chose another path. So it wasn’t really a lie, just a mislabel. “He’s not out.” I say, and Demyx nods in understanding. 

“I see,” he says, thoughtful. “Is he who you were looking for?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You miss him.” Not a question. 

“I do.” The ache comes back, surging up from where it lay unguarded. 

“That sucks!” Demyx whines, pounding his fists into the ground. “You’re so hot! Why is the universe so mean to me?” 

I laugh, the tension between us broken and I lay back down, not worried hell try to kiss me again. 

“Can I help with tracks?” I ask, it’d been on my mind all day. 

Demyx lights up, his embarrassment washes away with giddy joy. “Really? You’d want to?” 

I shrug. “I think its cool.” 

“Hot and nice? Is Sora special, or is there in hope to woo you?” 

“Sora is…” I search for the right words, the words that give meaning to our bond, broken as it was. My life? My world? My everything? All true and yet, all false. Not enough to describe what Sora meant to me. “He’s…It’d be easier to show you.” 

“Show me?” 

“He’s the reason I paint. That’s why I’m here, painting is my thing, but I don’t think about it a lot. I like it. It helps me express myself, you know? But that sounds so mundane when the outlet is…more me then I am.” 

Demyx nods with very real understanding. “You’ll have to show me.” 

~.~

I get back to my dorm at around three am, and all I want is him. I have enough of my high left not to question it and I call. 

Sora answers, his tired face appearing in my screen. My whole self ached to have him in my bed, if only to have that wild hair within my grasp. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, of course he would be sleeping. That hadn’t even crossed my mind. 

“Is everything okay? You sound funny.” 

“I went to a party.” 

Sora’s eyebrows shoot up and he laughs. “Was it fun?”

I nod. “I’m high, that’s probably why I sound funny.” 

Sora smiles, amused, but not angry. “And? Is that why you’re all smiles?” 

“Partly.” I say, and my eyes trail down his shirtless body. 

Sora blushes. “So how was this party?” 

I tell him, about the party and the high and at the end I say. “Demyx tried to kiss me.” More as a memory I had to say out loud to make sense of, but then it had turned into something akin to an omission of guilt. 

“Demyx?” Sora asks, and I can practically hear him grinding his teeth. 

“He’s the one who invited me to the party. He’s very nice. He didn’t know…you know.” 

Sora nods, shell shocked. His mind scrambling to find something to say. To ask the right question, his panic written in his every movement. A sadness he kept swallowing back. 

“I told him I had a boyfriend.” I say, to ease his mind.

Sora goes completely still. “Do you?” 

“I wish,” I say, losing the part of my high that left my heart unguarded. My yes turning complicated again. I was taken, but not in name. I had a soulmate, but not a boyfriend. 

“You could, we could…” Sora stammers. 

“Not in the way I want.” 

“Is that why you called?” Sora breath tight, he was swallowing back anger now. “To…brag that other people want to kiss you?” 

“Of course not!” This was not going the way Id wanted it to, even thought Id had no other objective then to see him. 

Sora takes a shaky breath. “If he tries to kiss you again…I don’t want to know.” 

I sigh, feeling suddenly worn out from our back and forth. “I’m sorry that I woke you. I should have…” I trail off, where should I begin? I shouldn’t have called? I shouldn’t have gone out with Demyx? I shouldn’t have left?   
“Anyway, I have class in a couple hours, and I know you do too so…” 

“Is he in your classes?” 

“One of them.” 

“Do you like him?” The panicked lilt in his tone should have been enough to break me but seeing as I was already broken it felt like salt in my wounds. 

This interrogation was beyond my mental capability and I put my head in my hands. “I’m really, really sorry I called. I want to be able to tell you things, I didn’t think…Its just a thing that happened and I’m sorry. Next time I won’t tell you.” I meet his watery gaze. “Goodnight Sora, try to go back to sleep.” 

And I end the call. 

~.~ 

Summer – Simpson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression is a major bummer and so is this chapter. Sorry.


	20. The Understanding

The Understanding -

I haven’t been sleeping. 

I want to. I want to lay down and rest, but if I close my eyes I see him. His devastated, angry face. I hear that clipped voice accusing me, of what, having a life outside of him? 

Its not like I actually kissed anyone. 

I had nightmares about that bauble, the one that shattered at my feet. What if the pieces only seemed perfect, but didn’t actually line up at all? What if those halves were looking in the wrong place the whole time? What if whirling through the night sky had changed them just enough, that they would never fit the same again? 

All I would have to do was apologize, but I didn’t see why it had to be me. Why it always had to be me. I wasn’t the one who had fucked things between us in the first place. 

“You look terrible,” Demyx says in place of hello, before sitting in his usual spot and unlatching his sitar. I answer by mixing colors with a little more force. Seven sleepless night would do that to you—especially when you could barely afford to blink. Demyx’s intrusion of my private painting space had become common place almost immediately after meeting him. 

This first time he’d come here was to ‘see’ Sora, it was the day after the party, it hadn’t pained me too much to let him see. I showed him the recreation of our first kiss in sunset valley, the wash of soft oranges and yellows, the turning trees, the train tracks. I showed him the blue waves, the small boat, the drawn on cave walls of our first date. I showed him the love that was once bonded between us in secret getaway cabins, large moons and open balcony doors. 

Demyx didn’t say much but when I was done introducing him to the love of my life he pouted and mumbled. ‘Super ‘duper taken then. Damn.’ Then he sat, pulled out that too-big instrument and strummed the same few chords over and over while I painted. 

There was something inherently magical about Demyx, if he were any other type of person I would have kicked him out myself, but I and the ten other students in this room didn’t seem to mind at all. Demyx plucked notes, hummed, and scribbled notes into his notebook and it never became annoying. It was almost hypnotic, becoming repetitive background noise that helped me focus. He’d inserted himself into my life and didn’t seem particularly determined to go anywhere or do anything other then be there. He had not tried his hand at woo-ing me, which I was grateful for, Demyx was only my friend. 

The next day we’d discovered we also had music theory together, a class that did not compute for me, but it was where Demyx thrived. He helped me as ‘payment’ for help with graphic design and, as a bi-product, Tracks. The zine was becoming more concrete day by day, and it amazed me how much work could go into a thing that was maybe six pages long. 

And if music was not my thing, my next class was my thing from hell—Improv.

There was only one other student who was quiet, who introduced themselves to me as Xion, a short statured person, with a distinctive black pixie cut. They stuck close to me, we were drawn together by our social awkwardness, while the other seemed boisterous to the point of rude. 

When they were given their first scene Xion shined, their bright energy overshadowing those around them with an adventurous spirit that grew as the scene drew to a close, and Xion returned to my side. 

“Good job,” I told them, honestly impressed by the cohesive scene Id witnessed, though its elements had been a demon birth, mowing the lawn, and eggs sunny side up. But Xion had taken each new direction in stride, changing from one character to the next with the fluidity of a shapeshifter. It gave me hope that maybe I would also find my way. 

And while I was thankful for the confidence boost I should have known better. The professor told me I was in a diner and all of a sudden I didn’t know how to sit or talk like a real person. My brain went into overdrive when my ‘waiter’ asked me the overly complicated question of what I’d like to order—invisible notepad at the ready. Id had a very real meltdown in the middle of class. 

The evidence so clear that I didn’t belong that the professor herself helped me transfer into an already full still life class. 

But because Demyx knew everyone and because now Demyx was my friend Xion joined our circle, officially becoming my friend the second day after the party. Xion posted up at the small table, reading and writing intermittently. Once they saw Tracks in its semi-improved state they agreed to help edit the interviews. Xion’s thing was creative writing, they had stumbled into their acting talent by needing an extra credit. 

I lamented that we had not shared the same fate, in no world was I mean to be an actor. 

Namine joined us last after searching for me when I was not in my room. There was no hurt in her that she was the last one to enter our fold, not accusatory that I had been purposefully building it without her. I had not had to explain that the pillars of Demyx and Xion had come up on their own, that we’d all stayed on the same path thanks to Demyx and that I had very little to do with it at all. She’d simply walked up to me and said. “Wow, I really shouldn’t have dismissed you when you said painting was your thing.” 

She moved her own studio space next to mine, allowing us to spread out some. We’d order pizza and laugh and talk about school, and dating, and Tracks—which Namine eventually agreed to help with when she’d suggested a section about mental health and Demyx had cleverly roped her in, feigning ignorance and bowing to her knowledge on the subject. 

In three days we’d created a four-person team and it’d happened so naturally it felt meant to be. In three days I had three friends and I couldn’t even tell Sora; we’d had complete radio silence. 

Now seven days had passed. A week of quiet, absent of late-night phone calls, or periodic texts, a week without hearing his voice. I had more friends around me then ever and loneliness hollowed out my chest in a way that sometimes made having company unbearable. 

Demyx quietly strums, picking apart a new melody. His classes let out before the others so as a result he is usually in my space first, knowing I’ll be in my studio all night if he doesn’t coerce me to go eat dinner with him. He tells me I’m dedicated, and I don’t have the energy to correct him. I’m not dedicated; I’m neurotic. Painting is the only part of me that still exists when I’m like this. 

Dem looks up at me, finally noting my non-answer and peaks at my canvas that I’m haphazardly swiping paint across. Blue and gold in alternating waves. 

“Are you okay?” Demyx draws as if he already knows the answer is no. I shrug one shoulder at him in response. Okay was relative. I was still alive. I hadn’t missed any of my classes. We’d made considerable progress on Tracks. By appearances, yes, I was okay. 

Id survived a week of having half of myself severed, much in the same way Id survived Christmas. 

Demyx re-examines my work. “Sora…” He says, answering his own question. “Trouble in paradise?” 

On impulse I bark out a laugh. Paradise, what a joke. 

Dem stops strumming, the sudden quiet more intrusive then his playing. “Dude, did you guys fight?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“Talk to me man, what happened?” The genuine concern in his tone makes me falter, and I meet his gaze. 

I overcome the lump in my throat. “I told him you tried to kiss me.”

All the color drains from Dem’s face, his eyes widening in shock. “You told him I had no idea, right? You are crazy, stupid in love. If Id known that I never would have…” 

“I told him; of course I did.” I click my tongue. “He…didn’t let me explain properly before he jumped down my throat. He’s the one who doesn’t want to be out. That’s not my fault.” The last part I spit, grinding my teeth. 

“Can you blame him?” 

“What?” 

“Riku, you are very hot. I’m sure you’ve been flirted with left, right, and center. If it were me and it was long distance, I’d get jealous without any evidence. Why’d you even tell him something like that?” Demyx starts strumming again, the noise a welcome respite from the truth in his words. 

“We have a pact. No lies. No secrets.” Or we did, now he didn’t want to know. Even though he was the one who’d expressly asked. I couldn’t understand him sometimes. Why hadn’t he called? Sora had to see how ridiculous this was, right? “And…I was still kind of high.” 

Demyx chuckles, suddenly laughing at me. “Why doesn’t he come hang out? Our band is playing this weekend. He can come and see that I’m no threat, and with some alone time you’ll work it out, I’m sure.” 

“He’s very busy,” I sigh. It wasn’t a lie. He was very busy, in his last semester, co-captain, playing one to two games every weekend, extra practices, and arranging his new diet to Hollow Bastian standards—Sora had a lot on his plate. Visiting me was hardly a priority. 

“Where’s he going to school?” 

“Destiny Islands High, but he’ll be going to Hallow Bastian in the fall.” 

Demyx narrows his eyes at me. “Are you a cradle robber, Riku?” 

This causes me to laugh in earnest, the absurdity of it over riding the internal numb. “He’ll be eighteen in like a month. Id hardly call that cradle robbing.” 

“Then I double understand why he’s so upset.” I furrow my brow, deciding then and there Demyx was a traitor, and he shrugs. “Highschool sucks. College is where people come into their own, its where people like us can learn to be ourselves. Being stuck in high school while your boyfriend is in college? In an art school? And besides, in high school, other closeted people can be…suffocating. That kind of pressure. Its awful.” 

I half smile. “I think Sora has it a little worse.” 

“How?” 

I hadn’t put this together before, but with Demyx’s reminder I could see it. A road Id already walked. In high school I barely had the luxury to ask myself who I really was but instead what I could get away with. What would fly under the radar. I only allowed myself to touch Sora when he touched me, and Id only bedded older men before him. Sora and I couldn’t escape gossip even when we were only friends, he had a very public relationship with Kairi, and we’d been a unit since birth. I only felt comfortable being out in another world. 

Id done exactly what Sora was doing and demanded he come out for my sake. 

“He’s a jock. A lot of people look up to him.”

Demyx scrunches up his nose. “That is worse. People watching your every move? Yuck.” 

I put my head in my hands. “He has this full ride scholarship to Hallow Bastion for Blitzball and I want him to come out now. I’ve, kind of, demanded it.” 

Demyx gapes at me, his scrutiny of this outburst apparent. Demyx was openly gay and I’d seen him get shit for it firsthand. The universe I wanted, where Sora could just come out, didn’t exist. I knew we’d be fine because my mother had told me as much, but he had no such guarantee. 

“That sucks,” a small even voice says from behind me, and I look up to see Xion, who giggles slightly and mimes that I smeared paint on my face. “Where I’m from,” they continue, “No one respects my pronouns and I only, really, feel kind of comfortable truly introducing myself here.” 

“I know,” I pout childishly at their scolding. “You shouldn’t eves drop.” 

Xion shrugs and takes their place. “How long have you two been together?” 

“Four months, but we’ve known each other our whole lives.” I amend, four months didn’t seem like enough time for the sacrifice I was demanding. 

Xion nods. “How long has he known about himself?” They ask, and I grimace, that was such a Xion way to ask that question. 

“Four…months. Five! Technically.” They both stare at me with open mouths. “I’m an asshole, you can just say it. It’s just that his brother is gay, and his family is amazing, and…” Roxas didn’t live at home. Roxas had somewhere else to go, somewhere else to live, someone else to share the burden. 

“Coming out isn’t easy,” Demyx begins, his voice the lowest I’ve ever heard it. “I was outed and my parents kicked me out. I was already eighteen but still…it was just like that.” And he snaps. 

“Dem,” I breathe softly, and Xion reaches for his hand. 

“Hey, I’m awesome. They’re the ones missing out. I’m only bringing it up…because maybe you should cut him some slack…that’s all.”  
“I’m not out.” Xion says, looking he square in the eyes and not letting go of Demyx. “Its only ever been my dad and me…and I think he’d hate the real me. A lot of people think I’m disgusting…If he were to too…” 

I reach for Xion’s hand and squeeze their small fingers with all my might. 

Our circle is closed by a girl wearing all white who stands opposite Xion who only ever wore all black, a fierce expression armoring her features. “I. Love. You.” She says, putting emphasis in each word, aiming each of them at Xion with pointed meaning—she too had been eavesdropping. Then she turns to me. “What’s going on?” 

“Riku wants Sora to come out before he’s ready so we were all sharing.” Dem says, immediately admitting my guilt. 

“Hey,” I say, scrambling to defend myself. “Don’t you think he should have at least told Roxas?” 

Namine sizes me up and though she’s barely taller than me while I’m sitting she makes me feel small underneath her gaze. “I’m going to tell you a secret.” Namine breaths in and then out. “Roxas and Hayner were together his entire senior year and I was his cover story. Hayner is why Roxas moved to Twilight Town and struggle was his cover story. Roxas has always known he doesn’t like girls and he still dated me for like forever. Its really fucked up, and I hate that he used me that way, but if that doesn’t prove how hard it is to come out I don’t know what does.” 

“Did Sora know?” 

“Of course he did. He kept that secret, and I’m sure it fed his own fears when he realized how he really felt about you. Should he have told Roxas? Yeah, probably. But I can see why he didn’t.” 

This takes me aback, shame making me nauseous. 

“Roxas is Sora’s gay brother?” Demyx slowly says when our conversation doesn’t continue. 

“Twins.” Namine draws blandly, as if she weren’t a twin herself. 

“Roxas hates me.” Demyx says. 

“Why?” Namine shifts, unwilling to refute the gossip about her ex. They start a completely separate conversation while I withdraw. 

I release Namine and Xion’s hands and pack quickly. Namine smirks at me. “Tell Sora I said hi.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

~.~

Sora is still in practice when I call, though it takes three missed calls for me to realize he’s not ignoring me, but instead is actually busy.

His return call comes around five. “Hey, are you okay?” He asks, panicked. I can hear the noise of his teammates in the background, being loud and jovial behind him. Why did I call three times without texting? If that wasn’t ‘I’m having an emergency’ I don’t know what was. 

“Yeah I’m fine. I had to talk to you.” I sooth. 

I hear Sora sniff, although he was in no place to cry. “Riku,” he sighs. Then louder I hear, ‘Oh Riku!’ followed by kissing noises and collective laughter. “Shut up!” Sora hisses, with I’m sure some shoving, but I can’t tell. 

I can’t exactly hear what is said back only that it ends with a condescending, ‘boooyfriend.’ Was that how Sora heard that world? As a mocking degrading thing? 

My hands curl automatically into fists. 

“Sora. Call me when you get home.” 

“Don’t mind them, they’re just assholes.” More laughter. 

I soften my tone; I didn’t want him to think I was mad at him. “When you get home, please, I want to see you anyway.”

Sora swallows. “Yeah okay. See you soon.” 

“See you soon.” 

I open my laptop and wait, a million thoughts ripping through my head. How was I even going to start? His call comes in less then five minutes, Sora’s red face appearing in front of me. Long distance really did suck, gritting my teeth was a poor replacement for kissing him. 

“Did you run?” I ask, that was the only way he could have gotten to me so quickly. He nods, still catching his breath. “They’re going to talk, you didn’t have to run, I would have waited.” 

“I don’t care.” Sora interjects. “They talk no matter what I do.” 

I swallow, how long had Sora been facing their mockery alone? Judging by his resigned expression a long, long time. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. Saying the word that just a few hours ago had been more expensive then a phone call. Which now seemed funny, since not saying it had cost me more. 

Sora shakes his head. “No I’m sorry. I should have freaked out on you, that’s not fair—” 

“If it had been the other way, I would have been worse.” I concede. 

Sora is full of anxious energy, his nerves apparent in every fidget, every shift, every glace away. I smile at him softly. Wishing more then ever that he were in the room with me, so I could pull him into my lap and press my face into his hair and talk to him. Really, for once, talk to him. 

“I don’t like not talking.” I say. 

“I hate it.” He one-ups me. 

“Are they always like that?” 

Sora averts his eyes, knowing exactly who I’m talking about. “They think their being funny, like us being together is the funniest joke they’ve ever heard. Maybe if they actually knew it’d be different but I don’t know. I don’t think actually mean any harm.” I grit my teeth. “I don’t think it’s a joke.” He amends quietly, misreading why I’m angry, or maybe, knowing exactly why and distracting me. 

“I know.” I tell him. 

“So…” He begins. “Roxas has this really important match this weekend and his insisting I come to see and I…” 

“You’ll be here?” Sora nods, biting his lower lip. “Can I see you?”

“I was going to ask that,” he smiles sheepishly, and my chest blooms with wild happiness. 

“When will you be here?” 

“Friday night.” 

“For how long?” 

“The whole weekend.” 

“What time?” I knew this was probably too intense, but I didn’t care, in two days he’d be within arm’s reach. 

Sora laughs, a smile taking up his whole face. “I don’t have to actually go to the match, I promised, but we could meet after…?” 

“I can’t come?” 

“Of course you can, but Axel will be there so I just figured, you wouldn’t want to.” 

This gives me pause when it shouldn’t. “Will you stay with me Friday night?” And all nights, preferably, but I wouldn’t be that selfish yet. 

“Ill have to ask Rox, I don’t know what he has planned.” 

I nod, that made sense. Roxas wanted time too, they were probably also in the middle of patching things up. I would be a fool not to take all the time I could get with him; Axel be damned. 

“When is the match?” 

And he tells me.

What I really want and what I thought I wanted trade places. I still want the future where we are out and married and happy, but more importantly, I want Sora back. 

~.~ 

This December – Ricky Montgomery


End file.
